


Darkness Takes The Day

by padfootandprongsy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootandprongsy/pseuds/padfootandprongsy
Summary: When there time at Hogwarts is over and they have to head out on there own, how will the marauders cope with what life has to throw at them? Basically our interpretation of life up until Halloween 1981. A sequel to our fic Fairytales of Yesterday, but can easily be read as a stand alone too!





	1. Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a run down of Summer 1978, but not all chapters will jump around so much time wise. This is just to get us to where we need to be for the plot.
> 
> Enjoy!

**1st August 1978**

Surprisingly, Sirius was organised.

He'd put a down payment on a flat before school ended and now, just a few weeks later, he and Remus were lugging their belongings through the door with the help of James - who was taking Sirius' broom up the stairs – and the Potters, who were floating a box full of kitchen equipment that Euphemia had insisted that they take.

Their speedy move wasn't because Sirius was particularly eager to get away from the Potters, of course, but rather because he didn't want to put them out any more than he already had. Remus, on the other hand, was quietly relieved to leave behind his detached father, and although he worried about the amount of money Sirius had spent on the deposit, the opportunity to start a new chapter of his life had become equally thrilling and scary.

"Where shall I put these boxes of clothes, Sirius?" Mr. Potter asked pleasantly, looking around the flat for the first time. It was a decent size - with a small kitchen leading off a sitting room that was furnished with a comfy looking, if slightly worn, sofa, armchair and a muggle television. "Which bedroom is yours?" He was standing in the corridor, looking at the amount of doors like something didn’t quite add up.

"Err," Sirius stammered, stepping in front of James' dad, "that's alright, just leave them there, I'll do it later."

"Okie doke," Mr. Potter shrugged, lowering his wand and guiding the boxes into a neat pile. "Less work for me then!"

Behind him, James chuckled quietly and leant the broom against the wall. “Don't know where we're going to play this close to the city anyway," he lamented, frowning. "We might have to apparate somewhere."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Mrs. Potter said fondly, wrapping an arm around James' shoulder. "I can't believe you boys have grown up so fast!"

She smiled at Sirius, before grabbing the corner of his jacket and pulling him towards her. "You can come home any time," she said, hugging him. "The house will be so quiet, especially once James moves in a few weeks."

"Thank you," Sirius whispered against the top of her head, which now only just reached his chin. "For everything."

"Right," she replied, pulling away from him. "You be good.” Her gaze flickered to Remus and she smiled softly, going to hug him too. "And you take care of my boy," she smiled. "We all know someone needs to."

James shot Sirius a look of embarrassment before pulling his mother away from Remus and saying, "Come on mum, let's leave them to it."

"Okay.” She nodded reluctantly and followed James towards the door.

After another round of goodbyes with Mr. Potter, the front door shut behind James' family and Remus and Sirius were left alone in the flat.

"Well," Remus said, "you'd think we were moving to the other side of the world."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. His eyes were a little glossy, but he smiled as he looked around their front room. "Maybe we really should start putting stuff away."

"We could start with the bedroom," Remus suggested innocently, making Sirius smirk.

"That sounds like a good idea," he said, but was immediately distracted by a distressed hooting coming from the cage by his feet. "Ah, it seems like Sir. Lancelot wants your attention more than me."

Remus leant down and let his owl out of his cage. He hooted once more and shot Remus a reproachful look before taking flight and perching precariously on Sirius' shoulder.

"Now he likes you more than me?" Remus complained. "You had to go in your cage for the journey Lancelot!"

"I don't think he's listening to you," Sirius laughed as Sir Lancelot obliviously cleaned his feathers. "You've betrayed him."

Remus sighed. "Maybe we should unpack the kitchen first then."

"Oh is that how it's going to be?" Sirius grinned. He shooed away Sir. Lancelot, who moodily flew to the nearest window, which Remus opened for him with a flick of his wand.

"We could just leave unpacking until tomorrow," he suggested, blocking the path to their boxes and wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. "We have all the time in the world for boring stuff like that."

"I guess you're right," Remus said with a growing smile, "it can wait."

* * *

 

**18th August 1978**

Remus had been dreading this night in a way that he hadn’t dreaded the full moon since he was fourteen years old. Ever since his friends had become animagi – the lengths they had gone to help him never failed to fill him with warmth – full moons had become bearable.

With James and Peter shortly moving into flats just a few streets away from Sirius and Remus, they had promised to help them every month. “We’ll always be there for you, Moony,” James had said.

Remus knew that everything James said came with a sense of burning honesty, but that didn’t mean he had to believe him. At Hogwarts they were a unit, the Gryffindor boys, the marauders. But now they all had separate lives and Remus knew things were going to change.

When he and Sirius had first looked at places to live a few months back, Remus had wanted to find somewhere with a secure basement or attic for him to transform without putting anyone else in danger, but Sirius had refused.

“You can’t do that to yourself,” he’d said. “I saw how bad your injuries were when you were shut up in the shrieking shack – you tore yourself to pieces. You can’t go back to that. We’ll find somewhere isolated, somewhere safe. You don’t deserve to be locked up, Remus.”

And true to his word, Sirius had found a huge forest in the middle of nowhere for Remus to transform. On the evening of the full moon, they apparated there and waited for James and Peter while gashes of red and orange spilled out of the sunset sky.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to transform here?” Remus said, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. “It looks pretty empty but it’s still a public area. I could hurt someone.”

“It’s probably less dangerous than running round the forbidden forest,” Sirius pointed out.

Remus knew this was meant to make him feel better, but his stomach twisted into knots with guilt. It would have only taken one mistake, one terrible accident, for a student to get too close to the forbidden forest and get bitten.

“And that’s why we’re here,” Sirius added quickly. “To make sure no one gets hurt – including you. Me and James have always managed to keep you away from people.”

James, however, was still nowhere in sight – and neither was Peter. The sky was growing dark, the moon was beginning to rise, and Remus could feel his bones begin to stretch and his muscles start to tear against his will.

“Do you think they got lost?” Sirius asked. “It’s a pretty big forest. I thought my instructions were clear but maybe - ”

“I don’t think they’re coming,” Remus said, and the moment the words left his lips there was a small pop and Lily appeared in front of them.

“Lily,” Remus exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I’m transforming any minute - it’s not safe!”

“I know, I know, I’m only going to be here for a second,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you that Peter’s too ill to come and James had to stay late at Auror training.”

“Oh,” Remus said. “Well." He tried to think of the right words, but his brain was growing foggy. "Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m so sorry, Remus,” she said. “James really wanted to be here but he didn’t have a choice.”

“It’s okay,” Remus said, though it wasn’t. “Now get out of here, please, there isn’t much time.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Lily said, and after exchanging a worried glance with Sirius, she disapparated.

“I guess this is how it’s going to be from now on,” Remus said. Night had fallen suddenly and Sirius was only visible through the thin slits of light filtering through the trees.

“Remus…” Sirius took his hand, but Remus tugged it away as his nails extended into claws and his whole body began to shake. The last thing he saw before he lost himself was the mixture of worry and fear distorting Sirius’ face.

* * *

 

**7th September 1978**

It took several trips for James to apparate with all of his things to Lily's house. He wasn't sure how he'd accumulated so much stuff over the years - though his mum giving him gifts of everything from saucepans to new shoes probably added a lot to the pile. On his final trip with the same battered suitcase he'd taken to Hogwarts every year, his parents had hugged him repeatedly and they'd all shed a few tears. He gave them one final grin before he span around and reappeared in Lily's living room.

He went out to the front door to find that Lily and her mum were trying to cram a huge box of Lily's clothes into the car Lily's parents had given her as a moving out gift, but they were having some difficulty.

"I think you need to learn one of those spells that makes things bigger on the inside," Mary said. She had offered to help them move and had been at Lily's house for the past hour.

"Maybe I should just apparate some of my stuff directly to the flat," James suggested.

"No," Lily insisted. "It's harder to apparate to places you don't know well and if we're off by a few metres we're going to end up scaring the life out of our muggle neighbours."

James personally thought that this would be an excellent way to introduce themselves, but the ministry probably wouldn't agree.

Eventually, with a final shove from Lily's mum, the suitcase squeezed into the boot of the car. There was a rather alarming crack, but they all decided to ignore it in favour of nodding in satisfaction.

"You'll just have to keep that one on your knee," Lily told James, nodding at the suitcase left in his hand. "It's not that long a drive anyway."

James agreed, and while Mary ran upstairs to double check that nothing had been forgotten, Lily and James went back into the living room to say goodbye to Lily's father.

"Roger, Lily and James are leaving now," his wife told him gently, perching on the edge of his chair. "They've come to say goodbye."

The man looked up at Lily with confusion in his eyes, and Lily felt her breath catch. She'd realised while being at home for the last few months that his Alzheimer’s had worsened considerably, but although she knew it was silly, she still hoped, whenever he looked at her, that he'd magically get better.

"Petunia?" he said questioningly, and Lily felt James' hand slip into hers. "She left home years ago."

"No dear," Lily's mum said, smiling sadly at her daughter. "It's Lily and James, they're moving to London together!"

"Oh," he replied, "of course." His eyes searched Lily's, and there was an edge of panic to them that made Lily deeply uncomfortable. Letting go of James' hand, she leant forward and wrapped her arms around her father. "Bye dad," she muttered against his cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too," he said back instinctively. Then added, "Lily," as an afterthought.

Nodding, Lily led the way back out of the room, to where Mary was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"All set?" she asked, and Lily nodded determinedly.

They all piled into the car - James in the front with his suitcase stuffed uncomfortably against his knees, and Mary in the back, wedged between the car door and one of the many boxes.

Lily's mum watched from the front door, waving as her daughter pulled the car out of the driveway. Lily waved back with a tight smile before turning the corner at the end of their street.

She reached down to turn up the radio, hoping that the loud music would distract her from the strange mix of feelings swimming around her head.

After forty-five minutes on the motorway and several wrong turnings once they got to the outskirts of London, they finally found the right street and the three of them spent over an hour carrying boxes and suitcases up the stairs to their flat. Using magic would have been quicker, but they didn't dare risk using it when their neighbours kept sticking their heads out of the door to offer them cups of tea or tell them about the neighbourhood, so by the time they were done they were all exhausted.

While Sirius and Remus had bought a fully-furnished flat with the money Sirius had inherited from his Uncle Alphard, James and Lily had decided to do up their own flat. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, when they pictured themselves flicking paint at each other and walking around furniture shops hand in hand, but right now it meant that all they had was a rickety table and sofa that the previous owners had left behind along with a bed that had been bought courtesy of James' parents. After checking that the sofa wasn't stained or infested with bugs, they all flopped down on it.

"Being an adult is exhausting," James said.

"The plus side is that we get the place to ourselves," Lily replied, and Mary groaned loudly.

"If you're about to start making out then I'm leaving."

"Are you sure?" Lily asked. "You could stay for dinner."

Mary pointedly opened up one of the small boxes labelled "kitchen". It contained a total of two saucepans and a mug.

"Fair point," Lily said.

"Thanks for helping," James added as they both got to their feet to see her out.

"No problem. I'll see you soon, yeah? I know I'm not living nearby but we should make plans soon."

"You can come for dinner as soon as we have to capacity to actually cook a meal," Lily promised and then hugged her.

Once Mary had left, they surveyed their empty flat and the piles of their possessions that they had nowhere to put.

"You know what we need?" Lily asked.

"A sofa that doesn't try to suck you in when you sit on it?" James suggested. "A wardrobe? Food?"

"No," Lily replied. "A cat."

James smiled. "Okay. A cat it is."

After unpacking what they could and making plans to hit the shops as soon as they were open the following day, James and Lily decided to head across the street to visit Peter, who had moved in the previous day.

He was obviously pleased to see them, but looked a little worse for wear when he opened the door, with dark shadows under his eyes.

"Remus and Sirius came over last night to celebrate the move," he explained. "They brought a lot of alcohol."

Peter, James noticed immediately, had had the foresight to buy some basic furniture before moving in. They all sat down at his kitchen table with it's mismatched chairs, and Peter boiled the kettle.

"My sixth of the day," he said, adding three spoonful's of sugar to his tea. "Seriously, if Sirius suggests a housewarming, say no."

"You're getting old, mate," James joked, sipping from his own cup. "How are you liking the new place anyway?"

"It's alright," Peter shrugged. "I’m near you all and it’s not too far to apparate to work, so."

"Oh that's right!" Lily smiled. She'd been distracted by the alarming shade of green that decorated Peter's kitchen walls, but his mention of work caught her attention. Peter had recently gotten a job at the owl post office in Diagon Alley, and although it didn't sound like the most exciting job in the world, he was doing better than a lot of their other friends, who had failed to even start looking for jobs at all. "When do you start?"

"Monday," Peter said, "it seems fairly decent. There's a nice witch who works there - she gave me cinnamon biscuits at the interview."

"Oh really," James grinned. "Have a bit of a crush do we Wormy?"

"Don't be stupid," Peter argued, "she's about 40 or something."

"There's nothing wrong with an older woman," James laughed, and Lily elbowed him in the ribs.

"I'm sure you'll be great Peter," she told him.

Peter smiled, though it didn't quite meet his eyes. Lily wondered about him sometimes - although Remus and Sirius had had a bumpy start, they seemed to be settling into adulthood with a gentle ease that Peter didn't quite have. Even she and James, despite their empty flat, were fairly content, but Peter seemed to resent his sudden descent into adulthood.

"I start Auror training on Monday too," James said. "I don't know whether I'm looking forward to it or if I'm absolutely terrified."

"They're not going to put your life in danger on your first day, love," Lily said.

"I don't know," James said. "I met Alastor Moody when I went in to confirm I'd got good enough grades and he's the real deal - he doesn't seem like the type to start me off slowly."

"Well if you get bored of danger and glory, there's probably room for you at the post office," Peter said.

"I'll let you know," James grinned.

Looking at her watch, Lily sighed. "We'd better go," she said apologetically. "We still need to find sheets and pyjamas and stuff before bed, and be up early in the morning to get to the shops."

"Good idea," James said, standing up. "Sorry Pete, we'll see you soon!"

"Bye then," Peter said, watching them go.

Although his flat was properly decorated and much fuller than James and Lily's, when the two of them left, it seemed empty.

* * *

 

  **20th September 1978**

Remus had been to a job interview that had been over the second he used the word "werewolf", and since this was the sixth time it had happened, he was feeling more than a little resigned. Were it up to him, he wouldn't mention his condition at all. But no, the ministry saw to it that that wasn't an option.

It had been a miracle that he'd been allowed to go to Hogwarts at all, he thought, and no one tended to get more than one miracle in their lives.

When he got home, he expected Sirius to be in the living room, but the room was empty.

"Sirius?" he called.

"In here."

Remus followed his voice to the bedroom and found Sirius lying on the bed, still in his pyjamas.

"What am I doing with my life, Moony?" he said, staring up at the ceiling. "You're being all responsible and everyone else has jobs and here I am in pyjamas with broomsticks on them doing absolutely nothing."

"It's not like you couldn't get a job if you tried," Remus pointed out.

"I know, I just - " He finally looked at Remus. "Your interview went badly again, huh?"

Remus lay down next to Sirius.

"Yeah. No surprises there."

"Something will come up eventually," Sirius said with a certainty Remus couldn't understand. "Or alternatively, we could stay on this bed for the rest of our lives and I'll use the rest of my inheritance to hire a cook to bring us pizza and toast."

"And cups of tea," Remus added.

"Yes, of course, mustn't forget the tea."

They turned their heads to look at each other and Sirius leant forward to kiss Remus on the nose, making him pull a face.

"This is good though, right?" Sirius asked. "Us. This flat. James and everyone being nearby. Our whole long and unplanned lives ahead of us."

"Right now is good," Remus confirmed. "It's the future that worries me. Everything feels suspended, like we're just waiting for something to happen to us. I don't know if that something is going to be good or bad."

"It'll be good," Sirius said. "I promise."

* * *

 

**9th October 1978**

James had been thinking.

He and Lily had been living together for a month now, and the ease of it was breath-taking. In the weeks leading up to their move, James had worried extensively that when they were suddenly in each other’s constant company, without the buffer of his friends, that he and Lily would no longer work.

Thankfully, the truth of the matter was the exact opposite. They worked incredibly well together – from the moment they woke up in the morning and went to brush their teeth, to James feeding Peanut the cat while Lily poured them cereal, then coming home in the evening to make quick meals of pasta or rice and snuggle up together on the sofa.

Of course they'd argued, but James never felt as though they were ever in danger of breaking up. They'd argue, and they'd make up, and they'd carry on - together.

So James had been thinking about marriage. It was early, he knew, and they were young. Frank and Alice had announced their own engagement only a few weeks ago, and ever since he'd seen Lily giggling over wedding dresses James just hadn't been able to shake the image from his head - of Lily in a white dress walking down the aisle towards him.

He'd mentioned as much to Sirius, who had made a face at him. In the end though, even Sirius had agreed that they might as well, since it was inevitable anyway.

The problem was the asking. James didn't know how Frank had proposed. All he knew about marriage was what he'd learnt from his parents, who seemed to have been together forever. His father had proposed to his mother at the beach in summer time, and she'd thrown her ice cream in his face in pure surprise.

James had decided to make it his mission to not have anything thrown at his face. So he'd made a plan. He'd booked a table at a fancy restaurant, bought a beautiful diamond ring under the guidance of his mother, and was anxiously counting down the days until he could ask Lily to be his wife. He just hoped she'd say yes.

It was Thursday night, before James' planned proposal on the Saturday, when he and Lily were lying in bed together, that it happened.

Lily turned to him, still pink in the face and with wild hair from what they'd been doing a few minutes before. "James," she said seriously, putting a hand on his chest and shifting so that she was looking down at him.

Her green eyes shone with happiness and James felt a pleasant warmth inside him. "Mmm?" he prompted.

"I think we should get married."

"What?" James said, his heart had leapt into his throat and he sat up straight, nearly knocking heads with Lily in the process.

"I know it's soon," she shrugged, apparently completely calm, "but we love each other, and we live together, and I... I just want to be like we are now, forever."

"This isn't fair."

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, because Lily pulled the bed clothes up around her and her smile faded.

"Maybe this wasn't the best moment..." she started, but James shook his head furiously.

"No, no, no," he said desperately. "Lily, I was going to ask you to marry me this weekend!" He stumbled out of bed and dug around in his sock draw before triumphantly producing a ring box.

"I got you a ring," he said, sitting back down on the bed and handing her the box.

"You're kidding?" she asked, opening it. "Oh my god, I didn't - James, it's beautiful!"

There were tears in her eyes as she held her hand out wordlessly and watched as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

"So we're getting married?" Lily asked, looking from the ring to James, a huge smile breaking out across her face.

"It looks like it," James agreed. "Shall I cancel the table I booked at Riveria?" he teased. "It would have cost a fortune."

"Shall you - " Lily shook her head at him, but the laughter building up inside her quickly took over. "You're ridiculous," she said, pushing him in the shoulder until he fell back against his pillow. "And I love you. "

"I love you too," James grinned, his hands slipping around Lily's waist as she straddled him, leaning down to kiss him before pulling back with a wicked grin and saying, "screw the table, we'll have an engagement party instead."

"That," James agreed, leaning up to press their lips together once more, "sounds perfect."


	2. New Recruits

**12 th November 1978**

James had never been to the Ministry of Magic before. Despite growing up in a wizarding family, there had never been any reason for him to go, so he was nervous as he travelled to the centre of London.

He’d apparated to the street where the visitor’s entrance was located, but there were three telephone booths and he’d had to try all of them before he found the right one. He looked down at the scrawled numbers on the back of his hand and dialled 62442 on the large keypad to be connected to the operator.

_Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state the purpose of your visit._

“Er,” James said, “I’m here for my first day of Auror training.”

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement can be found on the second floor. Please take your pass and have a pleasant visit._

“Oh, thanks.” James took the pass that dropped out of the slot, and then the telephone booth rumbled to life and shot downwards. When it shuddered to a halt, he stepped back through the door of the booth and found himself in the atrium.

The dark wooden floor was so polished that James checked his shoes for mud before he stepped any further, noticing that on both sides of him were lines of fireplaces with wizards and witches pouring out of them in flashes of green smoke.

He walked past a large fountain featuring a witch, wizard, centaur, goblin and house elf, and then he had to push through the crowd to reach the front desk. There was a sign saying _Welcome Desk_ in large letters, but the witch standing behind it looked less than welcoming.

“Visitor's pass?” she said when James got to the front of the queue. James held it out and she stamped it. “Second floor.”

Her tone was dismissive, so James thanked her before spending far too much time staring around him at the multitude of doors and passages until he eventually found the lifts. It was the morning rush, so he was crushed up against other witches and wizards like pickles in a jar. A pair of owls flew in just before the doors closed, one of them landing on James’ shoulder.

“Careful,” a witch said to him, “they leaving droppings everywhere.”

“Thanks for the warning,” James said, glad that the owl flew out when they reached the next level.

With so many people flooding in and out of the lifts, it took several long minutes to make it all the way down to the second floor. He was relieved when he was finally out of the crowded lift and into the open corridor.

However, he became immediately dismayed upon finding that there were no signs anywhere and three corridors stretching out in front of him. Completely clueless about where the Auror Headquarters were, he picked a direction at random. He tried more than once to ask a passing witch or wizard where to go, but everyone seemed to be in too much of a hurry to help him with anything.

James was beginning to panic as he glanced at his watch and saw the minute hand ticking further and further past the time he was supposed to have arrived, so it was with huge relief that he heard a voice behind him call, “Hey, Potter! James!”

He turned to find Frank Longbottom hurrying towards him, giving him an easy smile.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” James said. “I’m spectacularly lost. I thought I’d be stuck wandering around here all day.”

“It is a bit of a maze,” Frank agreed, steering James down a narrow corridor to their right. “But don’t worry, I’m running late too, so I’m glad I found you. Moody’s less intimidating when you don’t have to face his wrath alone.”

 _“Alastor Moody?”_ James said. “He’s here?”

“Oh yeah, he’s always around. Been training a lot of the new recruits I think.”

“But he’s a legend!” James exclaimed. “He’s defeated loads of dark wizards! What’s he doing training us lot?”

“A very good question!” a voice growled. They had turned a corner into the Auror Headquarters and come face-to-face with Alastor Moody himself. He was around forty, with scraggly hair, a solid build, and scars on every visible bit of skin. “Potter, is it?” Moody said gruffly.

“That’s me!” James found himself beaming at him.

“Get in here then, the pair of you,” Moody said. “And don’t be late again! I’ve got better things to do than wait around for you to saunter in whenever you feel like it.”

With a flick of Moody’s wand, the door slammed shut behind them. He led them through to his office, an extremely cluttered room full of an array of magical objects James didn’t recognise. The desk was stacked with papers that looked like they had largely been ignored, if the layer of dust on some of them was anything to go by. Moody looked at the desk with something akin to distrust before he pulled a chair out and sat down heavily.

“Damned leg,” he muttered as he rubbed his knee. The hem of his trouser came up and James noticed that he had a wooden leg. “Right then, Potter.” Moody picked up a folder with James’ name on it and gave it the briefest of glances before thinking better of it. “I’ll be straight with you. You got this far because of your grades, but I don’t give a damn about any of that. What you need now is guts, good sense, quick learning, and watchfulness. If you’ve got those, you’ll do just fine. If not, you’ll be out of here in no time. You got that?”

“Yes sir,” James said quickly. If possible, he was grinning even more than before. Moody had said exactly what James had wanted to hear: being an Auror wasn’t about grades, it was about action.

Moody gave him a long, hard look before he asked, “What Hogwarts house were you in?”

“Gryffindor,” James said. “Home of the brave and mighty.”

“Of course you were.” Moody looked unimpressed. “Now listen here, just because this job requires bravery doesn’t mean that courage is all that matters. Rushing into a fight without considering your options is what gets most young Aurors killed. Don’t be one of them.”

“Right. I won’t be,” James said, with somewhat less certainty than before.

“Hmm.” Moody stared at him for several long seconds before he barked, “Longbottom! You’ve been here long enough to know a thing or two. Show Potter around.”

“Sure,” Frank said. He didn’t seem quite as awed by Moody as James was.

“Off with you then!” Moody said. The two of them backed out of his office quickly, leaving Moody to stare at a stack of papers with distaste.

“He’s amazing,” James said as soon as the door was shut behind them. “I can’t believe I just met _Alastor Moody_. He must be the most famous Auror alive. And he’s training us!”

“Yeah, we’re lucky,” Frank replied. “He doesn’t normally do this sort of thing, but he lost his leg about a month ago and since then he’s been side-lined until he’s recovered. I heard the head of Magical Law Enforcement tried to get him to take a few months off but Moody refused, so we got him instead.”

“Wow,” James said. “You’ve been here a few weeks, right? What’s he been teaching you? Have you been out in the field yet?”

Frank snorted. “Hardly. He may not be one for theory and discussion and all that but he doesn’t let anyone go into a dangerous situation until they’re ready. He’s been teaching me a lot of curses and defensive magic, though. I’ve learnt more since I got here than I did in seven years of defence against the dark arts.”

“Wow,” James said again.

“Yeah, he’s a great teacher.” Frank paused to point out the training room, with walls of very solid-looking stone and rows of dummies with blast marks on them. When they moved on, he said, “Alice keeps saying she’s jealous of me being taught by him, but she didn’t want to go down the Auror route. Did she tell you and Lily that she’s doing an internship at the Daily Prophet?”

“No, she didn’t, but that’s great! I get the feeling the Prophet hasn’t been telling the full story lately.”

“That’s what she’s been saying,” Frank said, frowning. “Lily’s training to be a healer, right?”

“Yeah,” James said proudly. “She started last month.”

They stopped at a room with a large fireplace and a row of desks smaller than Moody’s. Frank explained that it was the only place other than the atrium with a connection to the floo network. He started pointing people out until James spotted a familiar face.

“Kingsley!” he said.

Kingsley looked up from the folder on his desk and smiled.

“Well look who it is,” he said, standing up to greet them. “Seems like half of Gryffindor has ended up here lately.”

“Kingsley’s already halfway through his training,” Frank explained. “Unlike me, he actually got organised as soon as we left school and came right here. I wish I’d done the same instead of faffing about for a year.”

“Wait, you’re only halfway through?” James said. “You mean it takes two years to complete the training?”

“At least that,” Kingsley said. “Sometimes it takes three. Depends how quickly you progress. Moody doesn’t mess around, though – he’s not that bothered about formal assessment. I’ve advanced much further since he took over my training. I think he wants Aurors trained as quickly as possible, what with everything that’s been going on.” He paused. “I heard about Chloe Bailey, by the way. She was a good kid.”

“Yeah.” James’ grin disappeared. “Yeah, she was.”

Silence fell – but it didn’t last long. Moments later, Moody rushed into the room, his wand drawn.

“There’s been an attack,” he shouted. “Death eaters by the sounds of it. Muggleborns in danger. Let’s go, and remember – constant vigilance!”

Suddenly the witches and wizards who had been chatting and doing paperwork just moments before sprang into action. With their wands at the ready and steely determination on their faces, they looked like a force to be reckoned with.

“Alastor, you shouldn’t be coming on this mission,” a middle-aged witch said sharply, but Moody didn’t listen.

“Do you think I’m going to sit here while innocent people are dying?” Moody snarled. He rapped on his wooden leg. “This thing isn’t going to stop me.”

James started following everyone towards the fireplace, but Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going? It’ll be months until you’re ready for this sort of thing. You need to stay here.”

“But you heard Moody – there are people in danger!”

“Potter,” Moody said, and James felt a flicker of hope before he continued, “stay here with Longbottom. The start of your training will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“But you just said yourself that you can’t sit around while people are being killed,” James protested, “and neither can I. I need to do something – to help.”

“What you need is to stay alive long enough to complete your training,” Moody said, his tone firm. “This is too dangerous. Kingsley, with me. Longbottom, make sure Potter stays here.”

Kingsley gave James an apologetic look as he grabbed a handful of floo powder and disappeared after the others.

“We can’t just do nothing!” James said when he and Frank were the only ones left. “They can’t really expect us to just sit back while this sort of thing happens again and again.”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t like it either, but Moody’s right. We’re no help to anyone if we’re not prepared and get ourselves killed.”

James knew that, realistically, this made sense. But when he thought of muggles dying at the hands of death eaters, when he thought how Chloe – a sixteen-year-old who had been his friend– had died the same way, all sense fled.

If he had to prepare for months or years before he could fight, if he had to just sit around doing paperwork while people got hurt, then what was the point of training to be an Auror in the first place?

* * *

 

Lily wiped her sweaty hands on her lime green uniform, sighing heavily. She had been a trainee healer for almost a month now, and up until recently everything had been going perfectly well. This week however, she had been assigned to the fourth floor – spell damage. She’d quite enjoyed working on the wards dedicated to creature induced injuries and plant poisons – it had been hectic but Lily had always been a quick learner, and there was something exhilarating about the rush of healers scrambling to think of the most effective spells to cure the stings of obscure magical creatures or the uncontrollable giggling brought on my being too close to certain plants.

Her couple of days working with magical bugs and diseases had been a different kind of experience all together. A lot of the conditions they dealt with were contagious, and Lily had held the hand of an old witch on her fourth day on the job, trying to comfort her while an experience healer told her she had dragon pox.

Lily had only ever been to a hospital a handful of times before considering her career – when her sister had had her tonsils removed, or when her grandfather had been old and ill. At first glance, the muggle hospitals she’d visited hadn’t seemed much different to St. Mungo’s, but Lily quickly realised that wasn’t the case. Many of her older colleagues – pureblood witches and wizards who had worked as healers for years – regarded healing as vastly superior to muggle medicine. Lily knew that magic certainly had its advantages, leaving a lot of muggle aliments easily treatable or simply non-existent in wizarding communities, but in the few days she’d spent dealing with spell damage she had been faced with the stark reality not just of the good that healing magic could do, but of the horror that curses and hexes could cause. In particular, Lily dreaded having to visit the Janus Thickey ward, where a handful of patients with lasting spell damage lived permanently, many of them being too badly injured to remember who they were before dark magic had changed their lives forever.

Lily was leaning against the wall in the corridor just outside the main ward when she heard a commotion that immediately told her something was very, very wrong.

The voices of an army of healers filtered through the corridors and Lily pushed herself away from the wall just in time to see them round the corner.   
  
They were floating five stretchers between them, moving as quickly as they could while still trying to be careful. Lily noticed that as well as levitating the patients, several of the healers were also already muttering healing charms under their breaths, the concentration giving their eyes a glazed, haunted look.

Belatedly, Lily pulled her wand out of her robes, blasting open the doors to the ward to allow the healers through.

She followed them with a growing feeling of dread in her stomach, watching as if from far away as a number of other healers already on the ward jumped up to help, acting with far more intuition and urgency than Lily felt capable of.

“Lily!”

The shout came from the witch who was the healer in charge of the ward, and Lily was momentarily startled at being addressed so informally.

“Evans, focus.”

Lily blinked, Sister Carter was staring at her insistently while a dozen other people swarmed around her, shouting healing spells and pushing potions into one another's hands. Both of Carter’s hands were clasped over a wound on the chest of a woman who was lying on a newly made bed.

Shaking herself, Lily darted to her side, where she could clearly see the jagged gash that stretched from the woman’s abdomen right up to her collar bone. The majority of the curses that Lily had read about in defence against the dark arts, though painful, left little physical evidence, so the sight of the woman’s blood, spilling more quickly than the healers could replenish with a potion, made Lily’s stomach lurch. Clearly whoever had inflicted this wound had wanted to make a show of it – had wanted the woman to suffer.

“Hold this while I try to close the wound,” Sister Carter instructed, and for the first time Lily heard the strained edge to her voice as she spoke.

Lily took the gauze, pressing down against the woman’s stomach. “What happened?” she asked desperately as Carter began a complicated string of incantations.

“Another attack.”

The answer came from a first year healer who Lily had already spoken to a number of times since she started at St. Mungo’s. She peered as far as she could over her shoulder to catch sight of him and saw that he was holding a thick purple potion in shaking hands.

“It’s the third this month on muggleborns,” he said, the words tainted with a fear that Lily knew all too well. She wanted to respond, but he was quickly pulled away by the healer dealing with one of the other victims. It was only when Lily cast her eyes across the row of beds that she realised the patients were a family. The woman she was trying to help must be the mother, she thought, looking for the first time at her face. She was maybe in her 40s, with thick black hair and the beginnings of thin lines around the corners of her eyes. Beside her was a man of a similar age, another, lighter skinned woman, and two near identical teenagers who looked almost the same age as Lily herself. Only one of them was conscious.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Sister Carter shifted beside her, distress evident on her face.

“This isn’t working,” she was muttering to herself. “Why isn’t it working?”

“What isn’t working?” Lily asked.

“Look at your hands.”

Lily did. Even from under the layers of gauze she was holding against the woman’s chest, blood had still managed to soak through and coat her skin.

“The spells aren’t working; I can’t close the wound.”

The declaration was followed by a momentarily lull in sound, a second where the healers who had been working frantically to mend bones and ease pain were united in silent horror.

“The curse – I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s like whenever I try to stop the bleeding, something pushes back and stops me. I don’t -”

She paused, utterly at a loss. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”

* * *

 

James had been home for hours. There had been nothing for him and Frank to do, since all the qualified Aurors had left to deal with the death eater attack, so they had left while it was only mid-morning.

It was now late evening, and Lily still wasn’t home. Her shift at St Mungo’s was supposed to end at 5pm, and he had been sitting by the front door waiting for her as the flat grew dark around him.

He hadn’t been able to eat all day, his stomach already feeling full with the heavy weight of dread that had never quite left since Chloe’s death. Too restless to stay still, he had spent most of the day pacing back and forth across their small living room until he finally sank into a chair and stayed there.

Some of his worry lifted when he heard a key in the door. When Lily stepped inside, she looked haggard, wisps of hair escaping from the knot at the back of her head and purple rings circling her eyes.

“James.”

His name slipped out before Lily had even spotted him, and in an instant he was beside her, eyes full of concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked urgently as she wrapped her arms around him, letting herself fall into the warmth of his embrace.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “God, I just – I don’t know if I can deal with this.”

“Come and sit down,” James said, guiding her to their new sofa, neither of them feeling particularly inclined to move away from one another. Lily sank down onto the leather like she’d never move again.

“What happened?”

Lily shook her head. She tried to push back the strands of hair that were falling into her face, but they stubbornly remained stuck to her forehead. In the end she pulled the scrunchy out of her hair, feeling slightly more like herself despite the lingering flecks of blood she could feel on her skin.

“Lily?”

“There was an attack on a family of muggleborns today and they were brought in,” she told him, her voice sounding strangely calm even to herself. “Two of them are recovering but the other three… This is just going to keep happening and those bastards make sure we can’t heal the people they hurt. And it’s terrible but all the way home I haven’t even been thinking about the people we couldn’t save, I’ve just been wondering how long it’ll be until it’s someone else we love.” She turned to him, wanting an answer she knew he couldn’t give. “James…”

“I know,” he said. “All the Aurors went to help, but they wouldn’t let me go with them.” Lily leant her head against his shoulder and he gently ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “I thought it would be different once we left Hogwarts, you know? I thought we’d be able to do more.”

“So did I,” Lily replied softly, “but I still feel so useless.”

“I just wish we didn’t have to do all this training. I want to make a difference now.”

“I know, but you have to be safe.”

“Why?” James asked petulantly, and Lily took her head from his shoulder to look at him. “No one else is safe – muggles and muggleborns are getting hurt all the time. It’s not fair for me to just sit back and wait around because I’m a pureblood. I don’t want to be safe if people I care about are in danger.”

His jaw was set and his eyes were bright, not just with anger but with a fierce determination.

“You’re an idiot, James Potter,” Lily told him affectionately. “I want you to fight, okay? But I have to know you’re safe, that we’ll both be okay.”

“We will,” James said confidently. “We're stronger than they are.”


	3. The Werewolf Register

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before Fantastic Beasts came out.

**21st November 1978**

It was a dull day, the iron sky filling the window as Remus opened the curtains that morning. He had been waiting for this day for months, ever since an owl had brought him a letter on stiff parchment with an official Ministry seal.  

_Dear Mr R. J. Lupin,_

_You are formally required to attend an appointment with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at 9 o’clock on 21 st November. Following the completion of your studies at Hogwarts, you must now be registered as an adult lycanthrope in order for your condition to be properly monitored._

_Please inform us if you are unable to attend this appointment, as a different date and time will need to be scheduled._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Keith Llewellyn_

_Head of the Department for the Regulation_  
_and Control of Magical Creatures_

After getting dressed, he picked the letter up, not really reading the words. Every time he had looked at the letter – which he had done more often than was necessary – it felt like his stomach filled with lead, weighing him down. Now that he wasn’t at school, being a werewolf seemed like more of a curse than ever. At Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey always made him feel safe, and with the others to run around the Forbidden Forest with, it all seemed like a game – a secret they shared, like the Marauder’s Map or James’ invisibility cloak.

Now, though, it wasn’t a fun kind of secret; there was nothing good to mask all the bad. Sirius had been with him every full moon, but although James and Peter tried, they were busy as often as not. And having to register with the Ministry made him feel like a criminal.

James had tried to make it seem less serious by comparing it to the animagus registry – not that any of them were on it – but Remus knew it wasn’t the same. Animagi were kept track of for their own safety; werewolves were “monitored” because they were dangerous.

* * *

When Sirius woke up that morning, the other side of the bed was cold. Remus, he knew, hadn’t slept well. He’d felt him tossing and turning beside him all night, and despite his best efforts, little that Sirius said had been able to help him feel better.

He dressed quickly, pulling on dark jeans and a shirt before heading to the kitchen. He found Remus sitting at their dining table, one hand clasped around a mug of tea that had already gone cold and the other tapping a paranoid rhythm against a piece of parchment – the letter from the Ministry.

Sirius approached him uncertainly, letting his hands rest on Remus’ shoulders, and feeling the tension there.

“Hey,” Remus said, tilting his head backwards to glance up at him.

“Morning,” Sirius replied, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Remus’ forehead. “Do you want more tea?”

“Sure,” Remus replied, regarding his cold mug with a frown. “I must have forgotten about it.”

“No problem,” Sirius shrugged, taking the mug. He let the tap run until the kettle was filled nearly to the brim, then placed it on the hob, carelessly casting an incendio spell to light a fire under it. He sat down beside Remus as he waited for it to boil, trying to make the words sound much more relaxed than he felt when he asked, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Remus said. Sirius gave him a knowing look and Remus sighed. “Alright, I’m not fine. But there’s nothing I can do, so there’s no point getting worked up about it.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset,” Sirius replied. “This whole thing” – he gestured to the letter – “is ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

The kettle began to bubble, steam rising from it; Sirius poured two cups of tea and handed one to Remus. Sirius wanted to reach out to him, but based on his hunched shoulders and the way Remus’ hands were curled tightly around his mug, he was too tense to want much physical contact.

“I’ve always known I’d have to do this. It was meant to be when I turned seventeen but Dumbledore convinced them I wasn’t a threat” – he almost winced as he said the word – “while I was at Hogwarts.”

“You’re not a threat now, Remus,” Sirius said gently. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. We’re always careful.”

“Doesn’t mean the Ministry trusts me.” He took a sip of his tea. “I know it’s only a meeting, just some papers to sign and things, but I just… I just wish they didn’t treat us like this. It’s not like anyone ever asked to be a werewolf. It’s not our fault, but they act like we’ve done something wrong just because of who we are – what we are.”

“Remus…” Sirius searched for the right words, but before he had the chance Remus stood up abruptly, finishing his tea in two swift gulps.

“We should go,” he said, his voice harsh. “Wouldn’t want to be late for my special day.”

* * *

Sirius hadn’t been to the ministry since he’d been dragged there with his father as a child. It looked much the same as he remembered – the huge atrium looming above him and Remus as they entered. After a disagreement with the witch at the reception desk over why Sirius was there at all, given the fact that Remus was the one with the appointment – he’d begrudgingly been given a visitor’s badge – they spent a good twenty minutes trying to find an empty lift down to the fourth floor. Finally, he and Remus found themselves at the department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures.

There were three signs along the main corridor, each stretching away to other parts of the ministry – one marked beings, another marked spirits and a final labelled beasts. Sirius felt a swell of anger rising in him as he and Remus turned to the corridor on the right – the one for magical beasts. There were many things Sirius could have said in that moment, none of them particularly pleasant about the Ministry. Instead though, he reached out for Remus’ hand, and was relieved when Remus didn’t pull away.

On the wall was a large portrait of Newt Scamander, a name Sirius couldn’t place until he remembered he’d written one of their textbooks. Remus frowned at the moving image and said, “He created the werewolf register. It was just before I was… well, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sirius said, making a mental note to throw away ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ when they got home.

“My dad knows him,” Remus added. “Bit of a dick, actually.”

They passed the offices of the Ghoul Task Force, and soon came to an area of open space; on one side was a door leading to the Werewolf Capture Unit – something that Sirius had never heard of before. He saw Remus’ eyes scan the sign, before his gaze determined returned to the floor.

“Okay?” Sirius asked quietly, squeezing his hand as they finally arrived at the right department – the Werewolf Register.

Remus nodded jerkily, before taking a decisive step forward, letting go of Sirius’ hand.

The double doors they entered through led to a surprisingly standard waiting area. It reminded Sirius of St Mungo’s, with it bare walls and plastic chairs.

The only other person in the room was a wizard standing behind a single desk, who narrowed his eyes at them when they entered.

“Morning,” Sirius said purposefully, to which the wizard only frowned at him coldly and said, “What name is it?”

“Remus Lupin,” Remus said from beside him, and Sirius bit back the number of scathing remarks he felt inclined to throw at the receptionist.

“Take a seat,” he informed them. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

They sat in the seats nearest to the door, Remus returning to the repetitive tapping he’d been doing that morning.

Sirius wanted to say something to him – something that would make him feel better, but really, he didn’t think there were words for that at all.

In a matter of only a few minutes, a stern looking witch with a clipboard came out of a small door on the opposite side of the room. She surveyed the pair of them over her glasses before looking down at her clipboard and saying “Lupin.”

Remus stood up hesitantly, and Sirius found himself also getting to his feet, reluctant to leave Remus alone with these people.

“And who are you?” the witch asked when they were only a few feet away from her. “We don’t allow any one but the werewolf into the register room.”

“His name is Remus,” Sirius snapped, as he saw Remus slink around the door, away from him and out of sight. “And I’m Sirius Black. Perhaps you’ve heard of my family?” 

The witch looked momentarily concerned, but the look was quickly disguised with a thin, forced smile. “Wait here,” she instructed him, and went into the room after Remus.

* * *

Sirius had been waiting for a quarter of an hour – though it seemed like much longer – when he was pulled out of his worries about Remus by a crying child.

He looked up to find a little girl whose hand was being held by a woman who was presumably her mother. The mother was talking hurriedly to the wizard behind the desk, while her daughter was pulling desperately on her mother’s hand, trying to get away as tears streamed down her face.

“I don’t want to!” she was saying, and when her mother finally bent down to pick her up, she collapsed against her almost immediately.

“It’ll be okay baby,” her mother cooed quietly, “it’ll only take a couple of minutes and then we can go home, okay?”

They sat down opposite Sirius, the girl in her mother’s lap, crying softly.

“Sorry about the noise,” her mother apologised, smiling at Sirius sadly. “It’s been hard to calm her down since -”

“Don’t apologise,” Sirius said at once. He looked again at the little girl, who had stopped crying at the sound of his voice, and was now regarding him with wide eyes.

“Are you a werewolf?” she asked boldly.

“Amanda,” her mother said sharply, then to Sirius, “you don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s no problem,” Sirius said, waving her away. He bent down beside the little girl, who watched him curiously. “One of my best friends is a werewolf,” he told her. “I’m waiting for him now.”

“You’re friends?” the girl asked. “Even though he’s broken now?”

“Did someone tell you that?” Sirius asked, alarmed. “He’s definitely not broken.”

“That’s what everyone says about me,” the girl told him, “I heard the healers talking about it.”

Sirius glanced up to see that the girl’s mother was struggling not to cry, and felt the anger that had been gnawing at him since entering the Ministry abate into a quiet sadness that made his chest ache.

“Don’t listen to what other people say,” Sirius told her, “they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“So I can still have friends?”

“The very best,” Sirius said firmly. “Remus is special, because he’s a good person, not because he’s a werewolf, just like you’re special too, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smiling at him faintly.

“Good,” Sirius replied.

* * *

Remus had sat through question after question about how and when he’d been bitten, the precautions he was taking and the people he’d told about his condition. He was becoming more than a little impatient.

“Are you currently employed?” the woman asked. She was looking down at the papers on her desk, making notes and ticking boxes. She had barely even looked at Remus since he came in.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Remus didn’t answer for so long that the woman finally looked up to see the exasperated expression on his face.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Remus said. “It’s because of the laws made in this department that I have to disclose my lycanthropy every time I apply for a job. Shockingly, no one wants to hire a werewolf.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, but then she returned her attention to her papers.

“‘Unemployed for personal reasons’, then,” she said, ticking a box. Remus felt anger bubbling inside him, but he held it in. “Are you sexually active?”

“I – what?” Remus asked, taken off guard.

“It’s not entirely clear whether some traits of lycanthropy can be passed on. We just want to make sure you’re… being careful.”

“So that I don’t create another monster, you mean?” Remus snapped. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am sexually active, but you don’t need to worry about that. There’s no risk of my _boyfriend_ getting pregnant.”

The woman opened her mouth, closed it again, and then said tersely, “That’s the end of the questions. I just need you to sign at the bottom.”

She handed Remus a pen and turned the form around to face him.

_I, Remus John Lupin, confirm that the above information is correct, and that I will notify the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures of any changes. I declare I will take the utmost precaution in assuring that I do not cause harm to others during nights of the full moon and that I do not pass on my condition. I take full responsibility for the results of my actions whilst in my wolf form._

Remus gritted his teeth and scribbled his signature, pushing the form away from him when he was done. He didn’t even want to look at it.

“That’s everything, then,” the woman said. “You’re free to go.”

The comment made Remus feel like a criminal more than ever.

“Thanks,” he said flatly as he turned to leave.

There were a few more people in the waiting room than when he’d arrived. Sirius was talking to a little girl and her mother, and Remus could tell from the scars on the girl’s hands that she was just like him. He pulled down his own sleeves self-consciously.

“All done?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah.”

The little girl squirmed in her mother’s arms. “Is it me next?” she said, her voice rising with fear.

“I think so, darling,” the mother replied. She shot a cautious smile at Remus and, on a whim, he crouched down in front of them.

“It’s not so bad,” he said gently. “Just a few questions to answer.”

“I don’t like them,” the girl said, her head turning towards the receptionist. “They all look at me funny.”

“I know,” Remus said. “They look at me like that, too.”

“Were you scared?” she asked. Remus wasn’t sure if she was asking about his appointment or about something else.

“Yeah, I was,” he said honestly. “But it’s okay to be scared. That just means you’re all the more brave for facing your fears.”

The girl smiled at him, and then her name was called by the stern-looking witch. She waved goodbye to Remus and Sirius as she and her mother went through the door.

“Ready to go?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah,” Remus held out his hand and Sirius took it.


	4. The Order of the Phoenix

**11th December 1978**

James had been training to be an Auror for almost a month, and he had fallen into the rhythm of it. He still hadn't been allowed to join Moody, Kingsley and the others on a real mission, but his disappointment about the lack of action was dulled by the nearness of his wedding.

"I can't believe it's only two weeks away," he said to Frank. They were on their lunch break, scarfing down sandwiches so that they could hurry back to be taught some more of the advanced defensive magic Aurors were required to learn.

"Are you nervous?" Frank asked.

"Are you kidding?" James said around a mouthful of sandwich. "I'm just excited!" He paused to chew and then added, "Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous. Lily's family will be there and… she doesn’t really get on with her sister."

"It'll be fine," Frank reassured him. "No one likes their in-laws, but they're obligated to be nice at the wedding."

"I guess. Hey, what about you? Have you and Alice set a date yet?"

Frank's cheeks went slightly pink. "Actually, yeah. I mean, we're thinking around March."

"Sorry for stealing your thunder when you proposed first," James joked.

"Never mind," Frank smiled. "I don't really mind when it happens, as long as it does."

The hussle and bussle of other witches and wizards around them was loud enough that the two of them had to lean forward over the table to hear each other properly, so when a young man in expensive robes took the seat beside him, James initially didn't think anything of it.

Instead of getting out his lunch though, the man - clearly a ministry employee, though not one that James recognised - put a hand purposefully on the table between them.

"Gentlemen," he said, assessing the two of them - James wiping crumbs from his robes and Frank glancing at him curiously.

"Can we help you?" Frank asked.

"I think it's more a question of whether I can help you," the man said. "I'm Corban Yaxley - I work in the department of Magical Law Enforcement and I couldn't help but overhear the talk around the office about some of our promising new Aurors. Potter and Longbottom I believe? I'm sure our parents must have crossed paths at some point, the old wizarding families all have ties somewhere down the line."

Frank glanced at James, and was unsurprised to see that his eyes had narrowed at the older man.

"What is it that you think you can do for us?" James asked coldly. "I don't know about you, but Frank and I don't need to rely on our family name for much."

"Of course, of course," Yaxley said, holding up a hand to James in apology. "I didn't mean to suggest that you can't forge your own paths. In fact, I came to talk to you about whether you've ever considered opportunities outside the ministry."

"James considered quidditch," Frank told him, while James crossed his arms and nodded stiffly. "He was our captain at school."

"Impressive," Yaxley smiled, though there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he said it. "Though not quite what I meant. I don't know whether you boys are interested in politics, but you must have noticed that things aren't leaning in favour of the Minister these days. There are – other – forces," he said, gesturing vaguely, "that always have room for talented wizards who come from a good background, if you understand me."

"Purebloods, you mean?" James snapped. Yaxley started to smile, putting a hand on the wrist of his robes and rubbing the spot almost subconsciously. Feeling anger bubbling up inside him, James said, "I don't know what you’ve heard about us, but you can tell whoever it is giving you orders that we're going to be the ones to stop you, not join you."

"I'd have hoped the Ministry would have got rid of people like you by now," Frank added, looking at Yaxley with growing disdain. "I think you should go."

"Times are changing," Yaxley said, as he stood up rigidly. "Purebloods need to stand together in this, to protect ourselves and our families. If you know what's good for you, you'll go where the power is."

He strode away, leaving the two of them in silent shock.

* * *

James and Frank didn't even bother to finish their lunch. They went straight to Alastor Moody's office and told him what Yaxley had said, talking over each other in their haste.

"He was going on about stupid pureblood bullshit-"

"-said we need to go where the power is-"

"-as though there was even a _chance_ we'd agree-"

"-should've told him to go f-"

"Enough!" Moody growled. He eyed them with his most chilling stare. "Neither of you should be surprised to find supporters of Voldemort here. The Ministry has always been rife with purebloods – money and family connections are all that matter to a lot of people."

"But can't we do something?" James asked. "Get him fired?"

"Trust me, Potter, I've tried plenty of times to get people like that out of the Ministry. You won’t get any further than I have."

"But he's working for Voldemort!" Frank said.

"Did he tell you that?" Moody asked. "Did he say that name to you?"

James opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

"No," Frank admitted.

"That's what I thought," Moody said gruffly. "He’d say nothing that could incriminate him. No – he can deny having said anything to do with Voldemort."

"We have to do _something_ ," James said desperately.

"Well perhaps if the two of you were a little better at thinking on your feet, we could have ourselves a pair of spies – but you didn't think of that, did you?"

They shook their heads. Moody sighed, rubbing his knee where the prosthetic was attached.

"But even if we can't do anything here," Frank said, giving Moody a meaningful look. "There's always..."

Moody frowned, regarding Frank contemplatively. Then he gave an exaggerated shrug – an action that looked quite comical on a man who James assumed only ever moved with the purpose of a warrior. "I suppose now is as good a time as any," he said after a long moment of silence.

"What?" James asked, glancing between them. "What's going on?"

"Potter," Moody said, placing a heavy hand on James' shoulder. "Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

* * *

Since part of her healer training involved working on Saturdays, Lily was glad that she had Monday afternoons to herself, which she could spend catching up with Mary or, like today, simply trying to relax – although the mountain of silver paper and ribbons spread across the kitchen table hadn't led to a particularly stress-free afternoon. Lily hadn't thought writing wedding invitations would take very long, but she hadn't accounted for the fact that she had to remember who was dating whom, who might want to bring plus-ones, and whether or not her sister would even accept the invitation at all. Not to mention the seating plans that still needed writing up and Mary's maid of honour dress that had been delivered to her in the wrong size.

When she heard the front door click open and James' voice call out to her, Lily glanced up at the clock and was surprised to see that that five hours had passed by since she'd sat down just after lunch.

"I brought takeaway," James said, holding up a plastic bag. He started to put it down on the table, but saw the panicked look in Lily's eye and thought better of it.

"Thanks," Lily said, releasing a breath. "I've been working on these all afternoon and the cat has been doing enough damage."

"They look great!" James leant down to kiss her on the cheek. The invitations were handmade, and Lily had decorated them with glitter and intricate designs of doves swooping across the parchment. The sight of them made James' heart flutter, but he pushed the feeling down, knowing the matters they needed to discuss that evening were much more urgent.

James took two plates out of the cupboard and scooped out the portions of rice and noodles, while Lily cleared the table of invitations. 

"Lils, I need to talk to you about something," he said when they were finally both sitting down.

"Okay," Lily said. Once a declaration such as this would have filled her with dread, but since dating and living with James she'd discovered that he was just as likely to be this dramatic about his opinion on the weather as he was about anything serious.

"Voldemort tried to recruit me today."

Lily dropped her fork, which clattered to the floor, leaving a blob of sauce on the linoleum.

"What?" was all she managed to say.

"Well, it wasn't actually Voldemort himself, and the whole thing was a bit vague, but some guy named Yaxley tried to convince me and Frank to join them – to 'go where the power is.'" There was a look of disgust on his face.

"Oh my God," Lily breathed.

"I know." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"I can't believe people like that are allowed to work at the Ministry," she said.

"Me neither - but that's not all that happened today." His expression was tense, but his eyes had brightened. "You know how people have been dropping hints about a group to fight Voldemort? Dumbledore, Marlene, Frank..."

"Yeah?"

"Moody finally told me about it; it's called the Order of the Phoenix. There's a meeting tonight - and we're invited."

* * *

The meeting was at Emmeline Vance's house. She was a talented witch who James had seen in portraits of the Ravenclaw quidditch team. She'd left Hogwarts the year before James and Lily started, so neither of them had ever met her in person.

After apparating there, they knocked on the front door of a large estate house that was answered by a small house elf with droopy ears and wide eyes.

"Mistress says that guests need a password to enter," the house elf told them, keeping the door closed other than the small gap she needed to peer out at them.

"A password?" Lily asked, perplexed, but James said "Kenmare Kestrels" with an air of importance.

The house elf moved to one side and James gave Lily a self-important wink before slipping through the door ahead of her.

They were led into a high ceilinged dinning room with a deep red carpet and long table around which other members of the Order were seated. James spotted Frank and Alice, followed by Professor McGonagall, before his vision of the table was obscured by a tall, slim witch stepping into his field of vision.

"I see you found our final guests, Pokey," Emmeline addressed the house elf warmly. "Mr Potter, Miss Evans, welcome."

"You have a lovely house," Lily said politely.

"It belonged to my parents," Emmeline replied. "Most of the time I find it too large to rattle around in, but it's certainly proved useful these last few months."

She gestured to the guests behind her, and James saw that Dumbledore and Moody had just entered through a doorway leading off to another room.

When their eyes met, Dumbledore gave them a small smile and nodded his head in greeting. He'd been the one to set up the Order, James knew, and he felt himself struck with awe. Though Dumbledore was a kind and understanding headmaster, there had always been a sense of greatness about him - something you couldn't quite explain given his quiet demeanour. But he had been a Gryffindor too, had defeated Grindlewald back in the 40s, and James was sure that if anyone had the power to stop what was happening with Voldemort, Dumbledore would be able to manage it.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Moody clearing his throat. "Not to interrupt your discussion Emmeline, but are we ready to get down to business?"

"Isn't Dorcas coming?" Frank asked. "I thought she had a report."

"She's still undercover," Moody told the room at large. "She thought it would be too dangerous to apparate away now."

James and Lily knew Dorcas by name, if not personally - a former Hufflepuff prefect who had left school a few years ahead of them. The idea of her being on a dangerous mission sent a jolt of excitement through James, coupled with a distant feeling of fear.

"Let's start then," Emmeline agreed, gesturing to James and Lily to take a seat.

They sat in tall chairs across from two brothers with striking ginger hair – the Prewetts. Lily belated realised that Marlene was sitting next to one of them, Gideon, apparently laughing at a shared joke. She looked up as Lily and James sat down and smiled warmly at them.

"Didn't think it'd be long until you turned up, Potter."

"You know me Marls," James said, sounding confident, though Lily could feel the nervous tapping of his leg against hers.

"Looks like you have quite the operation here," Lily put in, placing a reassuring hand on James' knee.

"We try," Fabian Prewett answered. Lily had never spoken to either of the brothers before, but they shared warm, honey coloured eyes that shone with a hint of mischief. "We suggested making a secret headquarters in the Ministry though, right Gid?"

"Right," his brother said, laughing at the memory, "no one suspects a spy on the inside. We could set up in the Department of Mysteries, people would probably just assume we were supposed to be there."

"Moody didn't much like that idea though."

"Idiotic, I think he called it," Gideon clarified, grinning at Lily. "So Emmeline's house works just fine."

"Just not as cool," Fabian smirked. 

The way they talked together reminded Lily of how James and Sirius were when they were planning on pulling a prank – always eager to finish the other’s thoughts and excited to tell everyone about it, even though most other people couldn't quite follow what they were talking about at all.

"Here is a little cosier, at least." Lily smiled. 

Fabian shrugged to indicate that it would have to do, and Gideon turned his attention away from them, putting an arm around the back of Marlene's chair, and shrugging innocently when she glanced up at him.

"If I could have your attention."

They were interrupted by Dumbledore, who stood up at the head of the table and started to address the room. The sight was at once so much like the start of year addresses he had made at Hogwarts, and yet so different, when he was talking about death eaters and murders and the possibility of needing to talk to more people about fighting back.

It was frightening to hear, but it gave Lily a sense of control that she hadn't felt since leaving Hogwarts – as though she could actually do something to stop the people who were hurting people like her. James, she knew, had felt helpless as they were forced to deal with the reality of a war that was apparently closer than they'd thought. But with the Order, they wouldn't be stuck waiting around for the worst to happen anymore. They could finally make a difference.

* * *

The meeting wasn't exactly short, what with several people delivering reports on intel they'd gathered and a long discussion about their plans. By the time they left, it was past eight o'clock, and they were late - they'd promised to go to Sirius and Remus' house that night, since they'd had barely any chance for the five of them to meet up lately.

But when they arrived, James was momentarily distracted from telling them all about the Order by the fact that Sirius was in the middle of the living room floor, wearing shorts that barely reached his thighs and a thin, black vest top. He was doing some sort of pose, with his hands and feet on the floor and his butt sticking in the air.

"Um," James said, the two of them halting in the doorway. "That is more of your arse than I ever wanted to see, Padfoot."

"He's been doing this for a while now," Peter said. He was sitting on the sofa was a bemused expression on his face. "Apparently it's called yoga."

"It's a sacred and ancient art, Wormtail." Sirius tried to get up gracefully but only succeeded in falling back onto the carpet. "And I'll have you know that position is called the down dog."

There was a grin on his face, as though he'd just told the world's funniest joke, and James couldn't hide a smile.

Remus came out of the kitchen holding two bowls of snacks and sighed long-sufferingly.

"Aren't you done yet?" he asked. To James and Lily, he said, "He's been at it all week. He cannot be stopped. I have had to endure this for hours and hours."

"I wouldn't mind a pair of those shorts." Lily told Sirius, "Where did you get them?"

"A fashion guru never reveals his secrets," he replied solemnly.

"He decided to befriend the neighbours as Padfoot, and while he was there he stole the washing off their line," Remus said wryly.

"Of course he did," James said rolling his eyes. He approached Sirius and offered him a hand, pulling him up off the floor.

"We have something to tell you all before we play - er, what was it again Lils?"

"Monopoly," Lily reminded him.

"Right - before we play monopoly. Buy maybe you should get dressed first Pads?"

Sirius looked down at himself and shrugged. "Aren't you enjoying the view? I think Wormy and Lily are."

"I'm mostly enjoying the wine," Peter argued, holding up his glass.

"Here," Remus said, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the radiator and throwing them at him, "you're distracting like that anyway."

"Oh really?" Sirius asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Remus. "Maybe the two of us should get out of here then."

"This is our flat, Sirius," Remus reminded him. "Put the bloody pants on and have a beer." 

"If you insist," Sirius sighed. He pulled the pants up over the shorts he was already wearing and took the offered bottle of butterbeer.

"Right then, what's up?"

There wasn't enough room for all five of them to fit comfortably on the sofa, so while Remus took up the space beside Peter, Sirius dropped onto the floor across from them, Lily sank down into an overstuffed chair and James perched on the arm of it beside her.

Once they were all settled and had gotten themselves drinks, James began to tell them about the meeting.

They'd all heard from Frank at the end of the school year that Dumbledore had started some sort of group to combat Voldemort, but the fact that they were already so active surprised them.

"How many people are in this – what is it – Order?" Remus asked.

"I don't know exactly, there were about ten people at the meeting but I think there are more of us."

"Yeah," Lily agreed. "Other people are out on missions and stuff, like Dorcas Meadowes."

"Meadowss?" Peter interrupted. "That Hufflepuff? She always seemed kind of scary. I'm not surprised she'd want to be in on this."

James nodded. "Frank, Alice, Kingsley and Marlene were there too."

The room was quiet for a moment, other than the sound of Peter tapping his fingers nervously against the side of his glass, and the soft patter of rain against the windows.

Then Sirius spoke.

"Well we're joining, right?" He looked around at all of them, his gaze lingering briefly on Remus, but he met James' eye with a look of steely determination. "Dumbledore and the Order want to stop everything that's been going on. I bet we don't even know the half of it - this is exactly what we've been waiting for. Who needs a job when we can do something this important."

"You should still get a job," Remus said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "I can't be doing with all the yoga." More solemnly, Remus asked James, "what would we have to do?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I think Moody knows a lot about the sort of people who are working for Voldemort. He seems to send people on missions to get information and stuff."

"That sounds doable," Remus agreed.

"It sounds dangerous," Peter put in. His glass was now empty, but he was still holding it tightly in one hand. "I don't like Voldemort just as much as the rest of you but - we're only eighteen. Are we really qualified for any of this?"

"You heard what James said, loads of people from school do it," Sirius told him with a shrug that did nothing to alleviate his uncertainty.

"You're right, Peter."

Peter didn't expect the words to come from Lily, but he turned to see that she was watching him was a sad smile.

"It might be dangerous. And no one's going to force you to join if you don't want to, but I for one think it's worth it. I can't just sit by and watch people get hurt anymore."

"Here here," Sirius agreed, raising his beer in Lily's direction.

Silence stretched, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until Lily cleared her throat loudly, and said, in at attempt at normality, "Okay then, monopoly?"

She stood up to grab the board and they all filtered into the kitchen to sit around the table, most of the tension between them vanishing easily.

"I want to be the dog," Sirius said, grabbing the piece the moment Lily opened the box.

"Of course you do," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "As long as I'm not stuck being an iron again."

They settled down to play, the five of them laughing and joking together as the fake money was pushed from player to player. They had less opportunity, now they had finished school, to take the time to do something as simple and childish as just play a game.

Lily had sat at two tables that night. One where they were told in no uncertain terms that they were at war, and another with her friends, where they appeared to have no worries in the world other than whether they would pass go and collect £200. The juxtaposition was jarring, and Lily was unsure how to integrate the laughing young men sitting around Remus and Sirius' kitchen table with the soldiers she knew they would have to be if they were to continue down this road. She didn't blame Peter for being uncertain, or Sirius for being angry.

There was only one person to blame.

And she would be a soldier if it meant not letting him win.


	5. The Wedding

 

**23rd December 1978**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" James asked. 

He was dressed in a grey muggle suit and smart shoes, and was tugging at the striped tie around his neck uncomfortably. 

"I don't want things to be awkward at the wedding," Lily hissed back, "we can clear the air tonight." 

They pushed their way through the large glass door of the restaurant, finding themselves immediately assaulted by an array of Christmas decorations, from a large tree in the centre of the room to garlands of tinsel hanging from the ceilings.

"Okay," James said, "I just think that -

"Hush," Lily told him, stopping in her tracks and pointing to a table in the corner of the small dining room. "There they are. "

Petunia Dursley had spotted her sister at almost the exact moment that Lily gestured to their table. Dressed in a long black dress with a white shawl that hung around her shoulders, her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that made her severe cheekbones stand out against her face. She rose as Lily and James approached, sparing a moment to regard James with suspicion before pulling her sister into an awkward embrace. "How are you?" she asked, in an almost business-like fashion, as James and Vernon shook hands. 

"Fine, fine," Lily said, sitting down beside her sister. "Excited, with the wedding only in two days! We were so glad that you could make it tonight, really." 

"Of course," Petunia said, though her gaze wavered uncertainly. "You're my sister." 

Lily smiled, feeling some of the nerves that had been stirring in her stomach all day settle. Petunia was right - they were family. She wanted them to get along.

A waitress came and took their orders, and they made jolted small talk while she fetched their drinks. Lily thought longingly back to the time when she and Petunia had talked about everything, before there was so much tension between them.

"So how's..." Petunia hesitated, shooting a look at Vernon, as she tried to think of a topic that was unrelated to magic. He knew nothing about the wizarding world, and she intended to keep it that way. "How's work?" she finally asked.

"It's good," Lily replied. "Tiring, and I'm always on my feet, but I love it. Healing - I mean, being a nurse - is worth the hard work."

"Nursing is a good job for a woman," Vernon said approvingly. "Caring jobs always are. But you'll be giving up your work when you have children, of course?"

Beside him, James choked on his drink.

"It's a bit early to be thinking about children," Lily said hurriedly, holding back her irritation. She would not ruin this dinner, she just wouldn't.

They managed to stay on safe ground for a while, talking about Lily and James' new flat, Vernon's job and each of their plans for Christmas day. But just as they were digging into their meals, after telling them in excruciating detail about his new car, Vernon asked James what kind of car he drove.

"Er," James said, "Lily's parents gave her a car when she moved out."

"But you have one of your own, surely?"

"Surely," James agreed. He was starting to look harried, chasing peas around his plate as he tried to think.

"What's the make and model?"

"It's a... Comet 290." This, of course, was the model of his broomstick.

Vernon was frowning at him. "I've never heard of it. Some foreign company, is it?"

"No, completely British." Lily held back a sigh as James ploughed ahead. "It's the fastest Comet model yet. Great acceleration, and the steering is much smoother than the 260."

"And you're still trying to work as a magician, are you?" Vernon sneered. "Living on unemployment benefits, I assume. It's no way for a man to support his family, if you ask me."

"Vernon-" Petunia began, but Lily interrupted.

"James is actually training to be a - a police officer," Lily said, forcing a smile. "So there's no need to worry about us not having enough money. We're doing just fine."

"Yeah, and my parents have a small fortune of Galleons in Gringott's," James added, entirely unhelpfully.

"Galleons?" Vernon repeated incredulously, "Comets?" He slammed down his fork, which clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention of the other tables around them. "Are you trying to be funny?" He asked James. "To make me look like a fool? I came here because Petunia asked me to - because she wanted to try again with a sister who, clearly," he regarded Lily with disapproval, "has bad taste if she's marrying you. I won't sit here and be made fun of!" He punctuated the end of his sentence by pushing away his, mostly empty, plate.

"I didn't mean -" James started, but Lily held up a hand to quiet him.

"Bad taste?" she demanded. "What gives you the right to insult either of us that way? Maybe you don't like him, or me for that matter; Petunia is my family, not you. I don't care what you think, but the fact that you're arrogant enough to sit here and insult us is astounding."

"Lily!" Petunia gasped.

"No," Lily said shaking her head. "I want us to know each other, Tunie, I do. But I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not."

"He's my husband," Petunia told her, putting down her wine glass so hard that Lily was surprised it didn't break. "Maybe you think my life it boring compared to -" she threw up her hands, "whatever it is you get up to with him, but it's my life. And I don't -" she looked from Lily, across to James who was merely staring at her. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I just - can't."

"Well said Petunia," Vernon said gruffly. He too was on his feet, and had started pulling on his coat.

"Have a nice wedding," Petunia said flatly, before hurriedly grabbing her own jacket and leading the way out of the restaurant, Vernon muttering behind her about how she'd done the right thing.

Lily stared after them, feeling the catch in her throat as the tears started to come.

James was beside her in second, his arms around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said urgently. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"It's not your fault," Lily managed to say, wiping her eyes furiously against the sleeve of her top. "I guess we're just too different now."

* * *

**24th December 1978**

Getting married on Christmas Eve was the best idea James had ever had. The church was decorated with holly and fairy lights, everything white and green – all muggle decorations, since many of Lily's guests didn't know about magic – and there was a light frost coating the roof. It was all perfect, like something out of a fairy tale.

James was with his parents, listening to the bustle of the church filling up with his and Lily's friends and family.

"You look very handsome," his dad said, straightening James' bow tie. He was in black dress robes with just a hint of green along the lining.

"I'm so proud of you." His mum wiped away the tears brimming in her eyes, careful not to smudge her make up.

"Thank you," James said, squeezing her hand. He could barely contain his happiness, beaming at both of them. "I can't believe this is really happening."

"It's a wonderful day for both of you," his dad replied. He took his wife's hand and said, "Our wedding day was one of the best days of my life."

"This is one of the most stressful days of mine," Sirius said, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Mary and I were just accosted by Lily's great uncle, who thought we were a cute couple." He pulled a face.

"Well, there was that one time that -

"Everyone's ready now though," Sirius said, cutting him off. "It's almost time."

James felt a thrill of excitement run through him.

"We'll leave you to it, then," his mum said. She hugged James, and then hugged Sirius for good measure. "You've got the rings?" she checked.

"Yep, right here." Sirius tapped his pocket.

James' dad hugged the two of them as well and wished James luck, before he and his wife left to find their seats.

"Nervous?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, a bit, but in a good way. It's like - like the feeling you get before a Quidditch match, only ten times better. The anticipation before that big rush of excitement."

"Only you would compare your wedding to Quidditch." Sirius grinned at him. "Now are you ready to do this?"

"I've never been more ready for anything."

* * *

"Lily, you look amazing."

Lily was standing in front of a full length mirror, Mary by her side clutching a bouquet of roses. Her dress was beautiful - the result of a five hour shopping trip with Mary and her mother. It reached all the way down to her ankles, where her silver heels were barely visible in front of the short, lace train that pooled around her feet. The neckline of her dress scooped downward so that Lily's necklace - a single pearl that had belonged to her grandmother, sat perfectly against her chest. Watching her reflection, Lily lifted up an arm experimentally, and grinned when the fabric of her long, lace sleeves floated downwards in a ripple of thin material.

"Thanks," she laughed nervously, turning to Mary. "So do you."

"It doesn't matter how I look," Mary said sternly, picking up a single silver pin from the table beside them. "This day is all about you and James." She slid the clip into Lily's hair, pushing back the short veil so that it fell neatly in a line down Lily's back. "I bet if I told you in 5th year that you'd be marrying Potter you'd have wanted to slap me."

"Quite possibly," Lily laughed. "I definitely wouldn't have believed you, that's for sure."

"Lily!"

The door opened, and Lily turned to see her mother filling the doorway, her arms open as she stepped into the room, her face a picture of delight. "Look at you," she said, stopping just short of Lily, unsure whether to touch her and risk creasing her dress.

Lily though, was quick to embrace her mother. "I know," she said breathlessly, "this is all so surreal."

"I'll let you all have a moment," Mary said as Lily released her mum. "Check how things are going out there." 

"You make a beautiful bride, Lily" her father told her as Mary left. "I'm so glad that I can be here with you today."

The question of whether or not her father would be able to attend the ceremony had been a real one - with his health becoming worse and him sometimes struggling to remember simple things. She was glad that today seemed to be one of his better days, despite the worried look that her mum shot him when his stare briefly became vacant.

"Roger," her mum prompted. "Are you ready to walk Lily down the aisle?"

"Aisle?" he asked, glancing around, then he caught sight of Lily again, and his smile was instantly back. "Oh, of course! I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Lily could feel her emotions starting to get the better of her, looking at her parents’ proud, smiling faces. She wondering for a second if Petunia regretted her decision to stay away but was spared dwelling too much on her sister’s absence by Mary's reappearance.

"It's time!" she said, excitement so obvious that she could barely stand still.

"Oh goodness!" her mum exclaimed, "I'd better go and sit down."

She rushed out, and on queue, Lily heard the swell of an organ start to play from inside the nave. Immediately, her heart started to beat faster, and a small swell of panic began to rise inside her. She wanted to marry James, of course. She loved James, but the weight of what this meant - that she was choosing to spend the rest of her life with him, suddenly felt overwhelming.

Then her father hooked his arm through hers.

"Deep breaths," he said quietly. "You're going to be just fine."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, laughing, her nerves dissipating almost as quickly as they had come. "Thanks dad."

They stepped out of the room together, Lily's father by her side and Mary following close behind.

* * *

James was standing at the front of the church, rubbing his hands together nervously while Sirius watched him with a curious expression. Remus and Peter had come over briefly to wish him luck and were now sitting on the front row beside James' parents.

The last person to enter was Lily's mum, who gave a quick nod to the vicar to say that they were ready and whispered to James, "She looks gorgeous!" on her way to her seat.

The organ began to play and James' heart leapt. It was exactly like the start of a match, kicking off from the ground and soaring into the air, only so much better.

The doors opened and Lily stepped through, arm in arm with her father. James turned towards her, and the smile on his face could have lit up the room. He thought every day that Lily was beautiful, but now, seeing her in her wedding dress, that felt like an understatement. She was the most amazing woman he'd ever known.

It didn't take long for Lily to make her way towards him, but he cherished every second. When she reached the front, her father kissed her on the cheek and nodded to James before taking his seat next to his wife.

And just like that, it was time. They stood facing each other, neither of them able to stop smiling. As the vicar spoke and they said their vows, James didn't take his eyes off Lily for a single moment. It felt like all those years at Hogwarts had been leading up to this, like he'd been waiting his whole life to say those two words:

"I do."

* * *

By the time it was his turn to give his speech, Sirius had already drunk two glasses of wine. He wasn't drunk, but had been sat beside Mary - since both Remus, and her girlfriend, April - were at another table with Peter, and after the relief of getting their friends through the day, both of them had felt they deserved a chance to relax. It was nice, to whisper quietly to her while James and Lily's father gave their speeches. Sirius missed her company, he realised, having barely seen any of his friends from the quidditch team since leaving school.

He had been laughing at a joke Mary had told him when a muggle device - something called a microphone - was pressed into his hands, and a round of applause urged him to his feet.

Sirius had been working on the speech for weeks, practically since the day James had asked him to be his best man. At first, he'd thought it would be easy, but he'd soon realised that it was difficult to put into words exactly what he wanted to say - to make a speech that Remus insisted should be both funny and heartful, and, most importantly, not make any of them sound like completely idiots.

"Right then," he said, as their friends quietened down. "What a day. I'm sure we can all agree that James and Lily make a _stag_ geringly amazing couple. Even though it seemed pretty unlikely for a few, well, years that Lily would agree to go out with him at all, never mind marry him."

He turned to smile at Lily, who, like her husband, was shaking her head at him. When their eyes met, she shrugging innocently at his comment.

"The first time I remember James mentioning Lily was in our first year at school," Sirius reflected. They'd all been different people then, him in particular, and the idea of being a Gryffindor at all had still been something that filled him with dread. "It was our second week at school. We'd just come out of class and we see this girl in the corridor arguing with a teacher who was trying to give her a detention for shoving some fourth year. But they'd been bullying this younger kid, and Lily wasn't having that. This eleven year old girl just demanding to know why the teacher didn't want her to stand up to people. I didn't really think much of it before, we all just thought it was funny that even at eleven, Lily had the guts to lay in to a teacher like that - it really should have told us all we needed to know about the kind of person she'd become. James turned to me that day and he said, 'that girl’s crazy,' which of course, meant he was absolutely besotted by her.

“We wouldn’t find out until much later that as well as being ballsy as hell, Lily's also a girl who knows how to have a good laugh. For a long time James, and I say this with love," he glanced at his friend, who raised an eyebrow, "was too much of an idiot for Lily to consider dating, but we've all done a lot of growing up recently, and I know we're all glad that in the end, they worked out. I mean, they're kind of gross to be in a room with, but in a good way."

There was laughter from the people in the room, particularly from their friends who had been at Hogwarts, and Sirius caught Remus' eye, watching him with a smile from a nearby table.

"In all seriousness," he said, "and we all know I can't be anything else."

This joke earned quiet a few groans, but Sirius pressed on.

"I know James will make an excellent husband, because despite being an idiot half of the time, he's the best family I've ever had. Before I met James and his parents, I didn't know what a real family was supposed to be. Now I do, and that's thanks to him. James," he said, looking at his friend through eyes that were becoming slightly misty with emotion, "you're the best person I know, and I couldn't be prouder to call you a brother. I know Lily makes you happier than I've ever known you - even when we won the Quidditch cup in sixth year, which is saying something." He paused. "I know that with the two of you together, you can't fail to make a family that's just as full of all the love and courage that you both have plenty of."

He shook his head, laughing at himself. "And with that, I suggest everyone enjoys another glass or two of wine. I know I will!"

He waved slightly awkwardly at the crowd, who broke out into a thunderous round of applause as he started to return to his seat, but before he could sit down James caught up to him.

"Mate," he said, voice low with emotion. "You're ridiculous." He pulled Sirius into a tight hug.

Laughing breathlessly against James' shoulder, Sirius grinned and said, "well, I'm not your best man for nothing."

* * *

Peter had been put in charge of photography. He'd taken a handful of photos of the wedding ceremony, of Lily walking down the aisle, of them standing together before the vicar, of their kiss. He thought they were pretty good, if he said so himself. And as the reception started, he'd insisted they take some more photos before everyone's clothes got rumpled from dancing and they spilt food from the huge buffet on themselves - James' hair was already sticking up in all directions.

"Sirius and Mary, you should be in this one," he called, having done several of the bride and groom with their parents. Everyone was talking and joking as they arranged themselves, and Sirius was laughing as the picture was taken.

"Peter, Remus, you've got to be in one!" James insisted. Sirius dragged Remus over, and Mr Potter took the camera from Peter. And there they stood, the four of them and Lily, all smiling at the camera. Peter wondered whether they would ever take another picture of them like that - all of them together, happy. With the war coming, and with everything changing, he wasn't so sure.

Once they'd taken one more photo of James and Lily drinking from tall champagne flutes, James shouted over to the band, who started playing a soft, slow melody. Everyone cleared out of the way as James and Lily took to the floor for their first dance, to a chorus of whoops and wolf whistles. It wasn't long until other couples joined them: Marlene Mckinnon and Gideon Prewitt whom Peter had heard were dating, Mary and April whom he’d met at dinner, and James' and Lily's parents.

There weren't a huge amount of guests, but their families, school friends and new friends from the Order added up, and the room was quite full. Peter found himself some space in the corner and went back to taking photos. Nearby, he could hear Benjy Fenwick and Fabian Prewitt talking; he took of shot of Fabian with his arm on Benjy's shoulder, and wondered whether they were flirting, but he didn't know either of them well enough to tell.

It was a surprise when Dorcas Meadowes came over to him; they'd met a few times at the Order meetings they'd all been attending recently, but she was a skilled dueller, practically a legend, and they'd never properly spoken.

"Do you want to dance?" she asked bluntly. "It doesn't seem fair for you to be all alone over here."

"I - um - but the camera - "

"I'm sure they don't need you to document every single moment." She held out a hand. "Come on, have a little fun. You look too gloomy for a wedding!"

Peter took her hand and soon they were whirling around with the other pairs, Peter getting lost in the music despite his uncertainty.

* * *

Sirius and Remus watched from a small table nearby as Dorcas and Peter danced together, waving their hands and swinging their hips so that, despite Sirius knowing that Peter had been distracted with taking photographs all day, it seemed like they'd had a few too many butterbeers.

"That's unexpected," Sirius commented. Nearby, Professor McGonagall was dancing with Slughorn, both of them bobbing in time to the muggle music that Sirius very much doubted they knew.

"Was Slughorn even invited?" Remus asked, watching in bewilderment.

"As far as I know he just found out about it and assumed he was," Sirius laughed. "No one wanted to argue with him."

Remus smiled and shook his head, "I'm still traumatised by him suggesting me and Lily _make use of the common room_ while you were all away for Christmas."

"Don't remind me," Sirius said, "obviously you only wanted to make use of the common room with me."

"Obviously," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

They were quiet for a few minutes, watching the couples dance around them. James and Lily were still spinning each other around in a largely uncoordinated manner, laughing every other minute. James' parents on the other hand had stopped dancing, and Mrs Potter was sat at a table, rubbing her feet while her husband got them drinks.

"Do you want to dance?" Sirius asked abruptly, "I've been wanting to ask you but - James' parents are here and I don't know if Lily's muggle relatives will have a problem with it but – it's not right to not ask you, for all I know you could be a skilled dancer."

"I am, clearly," Remus told him. "I doubt any of Lily's relatives are stupid enough to punch the best man," he reasoned, but cast a worried eye over to James' parents, who were now sipping champagne. "Are you sure you don't mind them seeing?"

"I don't know," Sirius said. He reached across the table to take Remus' hand, linking their fingers together. "I do care, but I don't want to, if that makes any sense. Maybe it's about time they knew I'm probably not going to settle down and marry some girl."

"Probably?" Remus teased.

"Maybe one day you'll leave me to run off and join the circus or something," Sirius smirked.

"Or meet someone handsomer who wants to whisk me away to live in luxury in Paris."

"Handsomer? Than me?"

"More modest then."

Sirius grinned. "Come on," he said, squeezing Remus' hand. "Let's go and talk to them."

Remus seemed rather alarmed by this idea, but Sirius couldn't quite make out his complaints over the music. They crossed the room to James' parents hand in hand, Sirius' feet carrying him forward despite the growing urge to turn around the closer they got. By the time they reached their table, Sirius was bouncing on his heels, pangs of fear making him feel edgy.

"Hey," Sirius said loudly.

Fleamont and Euphemia turned around, looking from Sirius and Remus down to their linked hands.

"Hello dear," James' mum smiled. "Enjoying the wedding?"

"Yes," Sirius said, nodding a little frantically. "I was thinking of going to dance."

"Oh?"

"With Remus," Sirius clarified. "Because he's my boyfriend."

Remus nodded certainly beside him, squeezing Sirius' hand reassuringly.

"Oh Sirius," Mrs Potter said, shaking her head at him fondly. "Did you really think we didn't know?"

"Um," Sirius said, letting go of Remus in confusion. "You did?"

"You may have noticed that your brother has a big mouth," she laughed. "He accidentally let it slip months ago."

"Oh," Sirius said, nudging Remus, who was laughing quietly, in the side. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I knew you'd tell us when you were ready," she shrugged. "Besides, it took Fleamont here a little longer to work it out."

"Moving into a one bedroom flat was a bit of a giveaway though, son," Fleamont added, raising an eyebrow at Sirius. "Even I'm not that daft."

"I did tell him that," Remus said helpfully.

"And... you're alright with it?" Sirius asked, gesturing to Remus. "Us?"

"We've told you before Sirius," Fleamont said firmly, "there isn't anything you or James could do that would make us think any less of you. We're your family."

"Right," Sirius said. His emotions had settled somewhat since the ceremony, but now they were catching up with him again. "Good."

"Off you go then," Mrs Potter smiled at him, "don't keep that boy of yours waiting."

Sirius glanced at Remus to see that he was smiling expectantly, clearly amused by Mrs Potter's comment. "That would be rude of you," he laughed, holding out a hand for Sirius to take.

"Of course," he agreed, and led Remus a few feet away, to where the other couples were dancing. Although Sirius had been taught to dance when he was very young, he'd never danced with another man before. It set his nerves on edge to know that people were watching them. Not the same kind of nerves he'd had when approaching the Potters, but a heightened awareness of where Remus was touching him, and how close together their bodies were pressed. Remus was wearing a waistcoat, his suit jacket long forgotton on the back of a chair, and Sirius could feel the outline of the material through his own clothes, and could feel quickness of his boyfriend's breath against his neck.

He and Remus had been dating for almost a year now, and although they had been intimate plenty of times, something about dancing together in front of so many other people, some of whom they knew, and some of whom were complete strangers, was a completely new, and wonderful feeling.

"I love you," he told Remus certainly, circling his waist with his hands and bringing them both to a stop, "you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Remus said, looking at him in amusement. "The wedding has turned you into a soppy git," he said, leaning forward to kiss Sirius softly, "I love you too, idiot."

Sirius grinned and started to kiss him back, but was interrupted by someone knocking into his side, making him lose his balance.

He momentarily panicked, but opened his eyes to see James and Lily dancing right behind them.

"Oi," James said, "this is our wedding, not yours you know."

"Jealous of the more attractive couple, Prongs?"

"Impossible," Lily argued, "we're adorable."

"Whatever Potters."

James winked at him, and the two of them were soon swept away by the crowd, showing no sign of tiring.

"I thought they hated dancing," Remus shouted over the music, which had grown loud and fast.

"I think they just like clinging onto each other at every given opportunity," Sirius laughed. "Come on, let’s see if we can out do them. I know some excellent dance moves."

"We'll see about that," Remus replied sarcastically, but he was happy to join in as Sirius started to jump up and down in time to the beat of the music.

* * *

Towards the end of the night, Lily sat down to rest her aching feet, watching Sirius dance with Mrs Potter and James pluck up the courage to ask Professor McGonagall to dance. After a few minutes, Remus came over and held out his hand.

"Can I have a dance with the bride?"

"Sure. I've barely seen you all night."

Remus pulled her to her feet and span her around as a new song began.

"So how's it feel - being married?" he asked.

"Weird," she laughed. "It hasn't quite sunk in yet that I'm James' wife."

"Hard to believe you hated him three years ago."

"That's what Mary said," Lily replied. She stepped out the way as Alice and Frank almost bashed into them, dancing rather exuberantly. She thought they might have had quite a few drinks. "I didn't hate him, though. He was annoying and arrogant and I was furious with him a lot of the time, but I never hated him. I never thought he was a bad person."

"I don't think he'd have believed in fifth year that you'd go on a date with him, let alone marry him. Remember when he came back after Christmas and thought we'd been sleeping together?"

Lily laughed. "I'd forgotten about that. He looked so horrified."

"And then in sixth year you went to -"

"- the Slug Club. We didn't even get through one date -"

"- because he punched Snape," Remus finished.

Lily's smile wavered. "I've been thinking about Severus, him not being here - not that I want him to be, I don't want anything to do with him now, but we were friends for so long that it's weird to not even invite him to my wedding. And with Petunia not coming either, it's - I don't know. It's like I keep losing people."

"I'm sorry," Remus said gently. They had stopped dancing now. "I wish you could have nothing but happiness today."

"I am happy," Lily said firmly. "I really am. Today has been - it's like a dream. And I know I have so much to look forward to with James, living our whole lives together. I won't let anything spoil this day."

"Lily?" It was Mary. "Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah - I'll see you later, Remus."

She followed Mary over to the side of the room, which was mostly empty.

"Is everything okay?" Lily asked.

"Yeah. Well, sort of. I know I should have told you this ages ago, but I didn't want to ruin the wedding - I was going to wait until tomorrow but - maybe it's the wine talking - I just need you to know. I'm leaving after New Year."

"Leaving? What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to Spain," Mary said. "To live with April, near where her family are."

"What?" Lily asked. She didn't know what she'd expected Mary to say, but it wasn't this. "But - why?"

"It's not safe here, Lily," Mary said, her voice pained. "Not for muggleborns. People are dying and going missing. I got attacked at Hogwarts which is meant to be the safest place of all, and I'm scared all the time that it'll happen again. I can't live my life being afraid all the time."

"But - but we can change things! That's what the Order of the Phoenix is about. We can fight back, make it safe again." Lily could hear the edge to her voice, the panic that came with the idea of losing someone else she loved. Mary, who had been her best friend ever since they'd been partnered together in first year potions.

"And how many people are going to die in the process?" Mary asked. "I can't take that risk, especially when it would put April in danger because she's a muggle."

"But..."

"You could come with me," Mary suggested. "I hate the idea of leaving you, and you and James, you don't have to stay here. Being in the Order is dangerous, Lily - I don't want you to get hurt. "

Lily looked at her friend - she'd taken her hair down from the complicated style is had been in for the ceramony, and had her girlfriend’s coat wrapped around her shoulders to ward of the cold, December weather. It was Christmas eve, and Lily wanted nothing more than to tell Mary that they could all stay together, but she could tell that Mary didn't really expect her to go with her.

"I can't go, you know that. I have to fight for what I believe in."

Mary sighed. "I know. You're too brave for your own good. You're more of a Gryffindor than I am."

Lily just shook her head. "You know that's not true. You have to do what's right for you."

"Yeah," Mary nodded, blinking away her tears. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"It's okay, I understand." Lily hugged her fiercely. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Mary said, pulling away. They were both crying, and they laughed at themselves.

"I hope you'll be happy - with April. When I spoke to her earlier she seemed really sweet."

"She is. And I know you'll be happy too."

Lily was wiping away her tears when James came over. He'd had several drinks and hadn't stopped grinning all night.

"Hey, you. Are you alright?" he asked, taking her hand. 

Lily almost told him, but their day had been so great - she didn't want to spoil that when she could have a few more hours of happiness before thinking about what Mary had told her.

"Everything's perfect," she said, knowing that when she looked at James, she really did mean it. "Ready for another dance?"

"Lily, I could dance with you forever."

She smiled up at him, laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he momentarily lifted her from the ground, spinning her around wildly.

There was a smattering of amused applause from their nearby friends and family, and Lily felt her heart swell. As long as she was in James' arms, she thought, she really could believe that everything would be okay.


	6. Not Enough

**29 th December 1978**

It was only 11am and Lily had been thrown up on twice already. She'd changed her uniform, but the second time it had happened, she'd had to borrow someone else's spare scrubs.  They were a little too tight around her shoulders, and worn around the collar, but Lily refused to let it get her down. She and James had just returned from their brief romantic getaway after the wedding, and Lily was still glancing at the ring on her finger every now and then, reminding herself that it was all real. She was ludicrously happy, and even the string of awkward patients wasn't going to stop her from smiling at the memory of the last few days.

She ate lunch with a few of the colleagues she'd gotten to know a little better over the past couple of months, and was on her way back to the second floor when the beeper she'd been given to wear around her neck started screeching loudly at her. "Emergency at reception," it said at her incessantly, until she pushed the button on the top of it and the Welcome Witch's voice quietened.

Wiping her hair out of her face, Lily turned around, took a deep breath, and set off towards the reception at a run. She was one of the first to get there - and was handed a chart by another trainee healer who Lily thought had only started in the last week or so.

She pushed open the door to the private room the patient had been immediately directed to, and was met with the sight of a short, dark haired man in long, formal robes stretched out on the single bed.

She glanced down at the file in her hand, and felt her heart leap as she read the man’s name. 'Orion Black.'

Scanning the rest of the page, Lily glanced back up nervously. This was Sirius' father, someone she'd heard about only in the angry rants or solemn mumblings of his son, someone she knew was a supporter of Voldemort. Someone lying before her, grievously ill, expecting her to help him.

Lily took a deep breath - still in the doorway and staring at the man in shock. It took a few seconds before her instincts kicked in, and she started moving towards him, rehearsing the spells that she might need in her mind. She didn't see Walburga Black until the woman stepped directly into her path, almost causing Lily to walk right into her.

She was a tall woman, made even taller by the sharp heels that scratched at the smooth tiles on the floor of the hospital room, and her eyes were severe when she looked down at Lily. "I know you," she said harshly.

This declaration, Lily thought, was uncalled for. It wasn't surprising that Sirius' mother might know who she was, but Lily didn't see the relevance when her husband was lying on the bed behind her, his breathing coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Lily Potter," Walburga continued, taking a step closer to Lily so that they were barely inches apart. "The mudblood who married into a rich pureblood family."

"Excuse me?" Lily stuttered. She had heard plenty of stories about Sirius' family and their bigotry, but she didn't expect to be met with it head on when she was simply trying to do her job.

"I don't want you in here." Walburga said, turning her back on Lily, and standing with folded arms by her husband’s bed. "We don't need help from people like you."

"What's going on in here?"

The words came from Sister Carter, who had just arrived with another healer. She rushed over to the bed where Orion was lying as she spoke, and immediately started working on him.

"Here," Lily said, handing his file to the other healer. "It doesn't look good."

"Leave!" Walburga demanded, still not looking at her, then to Carter she said, "get that filthy mudblood out of here."

"Your husband is incredibly ill, Mrs. Black," Carter told her, clearly trying to remain calm despite Walburga's comment. "We need all the help we can get."

"Not from her."

Lily glanced from Sirius' mother to Sister Carter, who had paused with a half-made potion in one hand. She was obviously conflicted, but eventually she nodded once, and said quietly, "Lily, go."

Having barely set foot in the room at all, Lily turned around, feeling the sting of tears that she desperately tried to hold back. She wouldn't cry. Not for them.

It only struck her when she was almost back to her ward that Sirius' father was dying. She may not have examined him herself, but Lily had seen how bad he looked, had seen the chart she'd been handed when she got downstairs.

He wasn't going to make it. And she doubted that Sirius' mother would even think to let her estranged son know.

It would be down to her.

Lily couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd take the news. Although she's heard of his parents from James, and from Sirius himself plenty of times, seeing and hearing what Sirius had grown up with face to face was something that she couldn't have prepared for. How Sirius could regulate that - their obvious hatred - with the fact that they were his parents, and must have loved him, she didn't know.

She almost wished she hadn't seen Orion at all - that she hadn't had time to get down to reception, or hadn't been working that day. But it was the lesser of two evils, she told herself repeatedly as she started drafting a letter to James. It was better for him to find out from a friend - that James be the one to tell him - than to hear it from a stranger.

It was terrible, but it had to better this way.

* * *

Regulus was waiting. His mother hadn't let him come to St Mungo's when his father had collapsed in the middle of lunch, grasping for the tablecloth and pulling plates and glasses to the floor. Shards of glass and lumps of potato had been trodden into the carpet, and Kreacher had been hurrying in and out of the room, wanting everything to be perfect for when his master and mistress returned home. Kreacher had fussed over Regulus all afternoon, bringing him cups of tea and trying to convince him to eat something. It made the waiting a little more bearable, having Kreacher there with him.

The sun was sinking towards the horizon when its rays splashed across the room and caught on the crystal goblet that Regulus' father always drank from. It had rolled halfway across the room, just beneath a mahogany bookcase, and when Regulus picked it up he discovered a large chip in its rim. He tried to fix it, thinking how angry his father would be if his favourite goblet was broken - it was a family heirloom, like so many other things in 12 Grimmauld Place - but he was too numb for his magic to work. He had said _reparo_ over and over again, each time as ineffective as the last, until the words turned into sobs. Kreacher had tried to take the goblet from him but he had clung onto it. He needed to hold onto something.

He was still sitting at the dining table, staring blankly at the chipped goblet in his hand as the room grew dark around him, when he heard the front door open. Jolting out of his stunned silence, he hurried out into the hallway, almost tripping over the troll-leg umbrella stand in his haste.

"Mother?" he said, as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She always looked so well put together, with her long dark hair pulled back into a neat bun and her robes pressed to perfection. But now, strands of hair hung down around her face and the front of her robes were wrinkled. Instead of her usual straight back and cold smile, her shoulders seemed to slump forward and the skin around her mouth sagged. The lines of iron-grey running through her hair seemed more prominent than ever.

"Regulus," she said, the word falling heavily from her lips.

"Is father...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

Walburga didn't reply for a moment, undoing the silver clasp of her cloak with hands that trembled ever so slightly. She didn't even look at Kreacher as she handed him the cloak; she had eyes only for her son.

"Mother," he said again. "Where's father?"

Walburga Black had never been one to soften her words, and even this was no exception.

"He isn't coming home, Regulus," she said. "He's dead."

When he would look back on this moment, Regulus wouldn't be able to say how long they had stood in that hallway - Regulus, his mother and Kreacher, the last members of their family - in a silence as piercing as a scream.

It was his mother who finally spoke.

"You are the head of this family now," she said, stepping towards him and pushing his shoulders back to straighten his posture. "You are the last in the family line to bear the name of Black. Our reputation rests upon your shoulders." She was squeezing his shoulders tight enough to bruise. "I know you will make me proud."

* * *

**5 th January 1979**

"Do you want some more tea?"

"No."

"Some bacon or anything?"

"I'm fine."

"We could do something or-

"Remus." Sirius snapped, immediately silencing his boyfriend.

"Sorry, I know, I'm rambling."

"It's okay," Sirius said.

They were sitting on the sofa in their living room - just sitting there with the radio humming away quietly from the kitchen. Sirius couldn't really make out what was playing, and he didn't really care. He felt like he needed to stand up, walk around, do something - but he remained seated. Remus' hand was on his leg, and his words were soft and comforting but it didn't make him feel any better. He wanted it to - wished that he could let himself listen to Remus' bad jokes and kiss him, and that everything would be better, but there was an ache in his chest that he just couldn’t ignore.

Today was the day of his father's funeral. It would be starting any time now, and Sirius wasn't there.

He'd considered it. Both James and Remus had offered to go with him, but the thought of seeing the faces of his brother and his mother, of seeing their grief, was unbearable.

Sirius didn't know if what he was feeling was grief. He didn't know if it was possible to feel grief for a man who he had grown to despise. Maybe what he was feeling was just that - hatred. Anger. A sense of injustice that his father could be gone - after all he'd done - just like that. It was as though everything he'd ever said to Sirius was meaningless. All of the terrible things, and all of the good. At the end of the day, he was just an old man.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Moony, seriously."

"I just don't know what I can to do to help."

"Neither do I."

He took Remus' hand as he said it, squeezing it gently, before standing up.

He could feel Remus' eyes on him as he pulled on his jacket and tugged on his boots, but he didn't say anything, even as he headed towards the front door.

"I just need some air," Sirius said eventually, smiling at him weakly.

"Okay," Remus nodded, a sadness in his eyes, "I'll be here if you need me."

* * *

He didn't intend to go anywhere in particular, but once the thought popped into his head, he couldn't seem to shake it. As much as he loved Remus, his need to help was suffocating when Sirius didn't want affection at all. He wanted to settle in himself some of unease he had been feeling since he'd heard about his father's death, but he didn't know how. He had no desire to be with his real family on the day of the funeral, but he did know somewhere he might go, that might make him feel a little bit better.

He ended up at the Potters.

Fleamont was busy with a doctor's appointment, but a few minutes after he knocked on the front door Euphemia answered, standing in front of him with her straggly grey hair and warm smile, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Sirius," she beamed when she saw him, immediately ushering him inside and into a hug. "I'm so happy to see you sweetheart, how are you doing? Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"I'm good thanks," Sirius smiled, feeling some of the tension drain from him as she led him into the living room. "Remus has been overfeeding me all morning. He's trying to help."

"Nothing wrong with a man who cooks," she told him firmly, sitting down and patting the seat next to her.

"I wouldn't quite call toast and spaghetti cooking."

"Better than Fleamont can do after all these years, I'll tell you that much."

Sirius laughed, the sound escaping from him in a short, sharp bark that sounded alien given the way he'd been feeling over the past few days.

He leant his head on Euphemia's shoulder, and she pulled down the blanket to spread across their laps.

James' house – Sirius’ house, in all the ways that mattered, was exactly the same as they'd left it - with its threadbare rug in front of the fire place and tea stains on one arm of the chair that Fleamont always occupied when he was home. It made him forget for a little while, why he was even upset at all.

He was brought out of his nostalgia by the shake of Euphemia's shoulders against his head as she coughed loudly into her hands, each cough sounding like it was being dragged painfully from the back of her throat.

"Are you sick?" Sirius asked, sitting up. He glanced down at the blanket, and was suddenly aware of the numerous cups on the coffee table, and the discarded handkerchiefs on the arm of the sofa.

"Don't you worry about me," she said, brushing off his concerns, "nothing a chat with one of my boys and a good night's sleep won't fix. Now, why don't you tell me what's bothering you. I know it must have been hard, since your father passed. And I bet you're bottling it all up inside."

"It's the funeral today," Sirius told her, glancing down at the watch she and Fleamont had given him for his 17th birthday. "It's probably over now though."

Euphemia considered him carefully, then said, "I see. And you feel as though you should have been there, even though you know that you couldn't have gone, not after everything they put you through?"

"I know," Sirius said. "I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to," she said gently, putting an arm around him. "Not if you don't want, it's okay to just feel something."

"I don't like it."

"Of course you don't," she laughed. "But that's okay too."

"It's like," Sirius said, grasping for the words. He wanted to talk to someone, to get it all off his chest, but he couldn't quite articulate the torrent of emotions that were fighting in his brain. "Okay. It's like objectively, I know I should be sad, because he's my dad. And I am, sort of. I know that people think he was a good man, who achieved a lot, and that it's a shame he's dead. But at the same time, I'm almost glad. And that's a horrible thing to be, isn't it? I shouldn't be glad that someone's dead, even if they were a shitty person. But it's like, he can't get to me anymore. Or he shouldn't be able to, but here we are, with it getting to me. And I wonder about my mum - does she even care? They never seemed that much in love. Not like you are. I don't know what she'll think. And Reg - I wish I could have - I don't know. I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel, so I feel everything and it's too much. I don't know how to deal with it."

"Sirius," Euphemia said after a long moment of silence. "You might think you're all of these things - that you were a bad son to your father, a bad brother, a bad person for being relieved that he's dead. But do you know what I see when I look at you?"

"No," Sirius said shaking his head. "What?"

"I see a boy who is brave, and strong and fiercely loyal. You're a wonderful brother and son, and it isn't your fault that you were born into a family who could never see that. You don't owe them anything. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, looking at her in amazement. "I - How is it that you always know exactly what to say?"

"Mother's intuition," she told him with a wink. "You know you can come to me with anything."

* * *

**10 th February 1979**

Regulus returned to Hogwarts when the Christmas holidays ended, three days after his father's funeral. Any interest he'd had in his NEWT classes was now absent, and he had lost all motivation to complete his homework on time. He began to skip lessons more and more often, and as his professors' sympathy with his situation waned, he was given detention after detention - and he skipped those too. There seemed no point in any of it now.

When he did go to classes he argued with his professors, and he took to roaming the corridors at night in the hopes of being told off. He fought with his friends and his classmates, earning him even more detentions. He was just so angry, so desperate for someone to blame, a reason to fight - he needed a sense of purpose.

January faded into February, each week feeling as pointless as the last, and finally Professor Slughorn was forced to ask Regulus to come to his office for "a talk".

"Mr Black," he said when Regulus sat down on the other side of the desk, his arms crossed. "Regulus. I'm sure you know why you're here."

"Enlighten me."

"You've been missing classes, not turning in homework, getting into fights..."

"So?"

Slughorn sighed. "I know you're going through a difficult time at the moment, and we have all made allowances for that. But it has to stop now, my boy. You're normally such an excellent student - an asset to Slytherin and a credit to your family."

"My family?" Regulus repeated. "How am I helping my family? I'm meant to be bringing honour to my family name and - and making something of myself. How are NEWTs going to do that? How is this" - he gestured vaguely around him - "going to fix anything?"

"I understand that you're upset, but -"

"Upset? I'm not - you don't know anything about me. I'm not just the perfect prefect who gets O's in every class, okay? I can be so much more than that."

"Regulus -"

"No, it’s not enough." Regulus stood up, his chair falling backwards to the floor. He was breathing heavily. "I'm done. There's nothing for me here anymore."

He left Slughorn in shocked silence, slamming the door behind him.

It was evening and most people were at dinner, so he was able to make it to his dorm and pack his trunk without anyone trying to talk to him. But when he walked back through the Slytherin common room with his trunk and broomstick in tow, Evan Rosier stopped him.

"Hey, Reg, where are you going?"

"I'm leaving school."

"What? Why?"

He was aware that everyone in the common room was turning to stare at him.

"It's all just pointless - the world is changing, Evan. Do you think NEWTs are really going to matter to anyone?"

"But what are you going to do?"

"What I'm supposed to. My father was so proud of my cousins when they joined the Dark Lord - it's what he would have wanted."

Rosier looked impressed. "What, just like that?"

"Will he give you the dark mark?" a fourth year boy asked eagerly.

Regulus realised he hadn't thought it through that far.

"I'm going to my cousin Narcissa's manor. She and Lucius Malfoy - they'll know what to do."

Rosier began to batter him with more questions, but Regulus stopped him. "The details don't matter, okay?"

"But -"

"All that matters is I'm going to join him." Regulus looked his friend in the eye, trying to sound more sure of himself than he felt. "That's just - it's just how it's got to be."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Regulus said, though he wasn't sure at all. He took a deep breath. "I have to do this."


	7. Toujours Pur

**26 th February 1979**

"Hey Black, how come your friend Benjy never comes to any meetings?"

"Benjy?" Sirius repeated, glancing away from the clock on the wall. He'd been watching it for the past 10 minutes, wondering why Remus was late to the Order meeting, and whether his job interview had gone any better than the other three he'd attended in the last week.

"He's still at Hogwarts mate," Sirius told him. "Why?"

Fabian hesitated, looking downright alarmed at the news, and Sirius caught muffled laughter coming from his brother and Caradoc Dearborn, who was sitting beside him.

"Er," Fabian said, pushing his long hair back out of his eyes, "no reason. Never mind. He's in his last year though, right?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, "he's Quidditch captain now."

"Thank merlin," Fabian muttered, and turned away from Sirius, back to his brother, who nudged him in the side and continued to laugh quietly with Caradoc.

"Okay then," Sirius said to no one in particular. He shifted against the tall back of the stiff wooden chair he was in, trying to get comfortable. Emmeline's house was nice, cosy almost, but a lot of the lavish, expensive décor reminded Sirius uncomfortably of his parents’ house, and the evenings he had spent sitting around the dining table at Grimmauld Place. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the large oak table, wishing the meeting would start already. He didn't really want to be there - he shouldn’t be, not really. Not when James was at the hospital with their parents.

After a month of both Euphemia and Fleamont failing to recover from what they'd original thought were mild symptoms, they'd finally decided to ask a specialist healer what was wrong. Sirius had been there earlier in the day, while forms were filled out and tests were run. He'd rather be there now, but James had insisted that he could handle it, and that he and Remus should go to the meeting so that they didn't miss anything important.

Sighing, he said hello to Frank and Alice as they came in from the kitchen, talking excitedly to one another. Behind them was McGonagall, dressed in simple dark green robes that were far too casual for a Professor. Sirius still found it odd, to sit in a room with her, with Dumbledore and Moody, and be treated as an equal conspirator - to not be a student. He wished once again that Remus would hurry up, and glanced down at his watch to see that he was now almost half an hour late.

Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe the interview had gone well.

"Sirius?"

He looked up to see McGonagall hovering over him, her thin lips pressed together in a worried frown.

"Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

"Okay."

He got to his feet and followed McGonagall into the sitting room, where he stood in front of the fireplace, arms folded across his chest.

The last time he'd seen McGonagall look at him like this was then she'd told him that his Uncle was dead.

"What is it?"

"I'm supposed to be giving a report this evening about the instances we've had at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, "there's been a number of cases of older students - mainly Slytherins but a few of the other houses too - leaving school. A lot of them have family that might be involved with Voldemort, and Dumbledore’s worried that if we carry on this way, we could have lost a quarter of the NEWT students by summer. Not to mention all the fights that have been going on...”

Sirius watched her shake her head and clasp her hands over the front of her robes.

He didn't say anything.

"One of the first to leave was your brother," she told him. "We all knew he was upset after your father - Orion's - death, but he became reckless. Suddenly all he seemed to want to do was cause trouble. He left a couple of weeks ago; I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. Since then there have been more and more - people seem to think that they don't need to be in school anymore, not if they join him."

"He left?" Sirius repeated, trying to process the information that McGonagall had just laid out before him. "Just like that?"

McGonagall nodded. "I wanted to tell you first, before I talked about it in front of the Order."

"Where did he go?" Sirius asked coldly, his sudden fury at his brother radiating out of him.

"He was seen with Lucius Malfoy, and your cousin, Narcissa."

"Of course he was," Sirius almost laughed. "But he can't - he's barely seventeen."

"I'm sorry." McGonagall sighed.

"Yeah."

He turned away from her, glaring at the dying embers of a fire that had been lit in Emmeline's hearth. He'd known that Regulus following in their cousins’ footsteps wasn't unlikely, but he hadn't given much thought to the reality of it either.

He'd run off to be a Death Eater like it was the most naturally thing in the world, in doing so putting himself in more danger than Sirius could imagine. If he didn't get killed by the Order, by one of his friends, Sirius thought morosely, then Voldemort would surely kill him without a second thought.

Panic flooded through him, and he bit down hard on the edge of his lip, drawing blood.

"I have to go," he told McGonagall, who was still lingering in the doorway, watching him sadly. "I have to - maybe talk to James or - if..."

He grabbed a handful of floo powder from the jar on Emmeline's fireplace. "If you see Remus tell him - just tell him I had to go."

* * *

James had received very few letters as distressing as the one that a speckled snowy owl had brought him that afternoon, saying that both of his parents had been admitted to St Mungo’s. The owl had flown right into the Ministry building and landed squarely on Alastor Moody’s desk, scattering papers and hooting loudly. James had barely had time to process what he was reading before Moody placed some floo powder in his hand and pushed him unceremoniously towards the fireplace that was normally only used by qualified Aurors.

Lily had been waiting for him, ready to slip her hand into his and promise that everything was going to be okay. She’d told him that his parents had seen a healer that morning and the flu-like illness they’d had for over a month had been deemed serious enough to warrant them being brought to St Mungo’s. They didn’t know anything yet, she’d said, but the healers were doing all the tests they could think of.

Sirius had been sent the same letter as James and had arrived only minutes after him, but once they had seen that both Fleamont and Euphemia were conscious and well enough to talk – though too tired to hold much of a conversation – they’d both felt a bit better. James and Sirius had filled in all of the admission forms together, and when that was done James had insisted that it was okay if Sirius went to the Order meeting that night. But once he’d left, James began to feel his worry building inside him. Lily kept being called away to dress wounds and fetch healing potions as she was still technically at work, and James’ parents were both asleep.

When the initial tests came back negative and James had to wait for a second round of results, he started pacing up and down the corridor, unable to sit still. He hated waiting, hated not being able to do anything to help. And beneath that, he felt guilty. His parents had been ill for weeks and he hadn’t realised it was this serious – he’d believed his mum when she’d told him again and again that they would be fine.

But maybe she was wrong. If the past year had taught James anything, it was that not everything turned out well in the end. And he was helpless to stop it.

By the time Sirius burst into the corridor where James was pacing, he felt so full of worry and fear that he was close to breaking point.

“That was quick,” James said, frowning at his watch. The Order meeting had started less than an hour ago.

“I left early -”

“Well I’m glad you’re here, I think the test results will be back soon.”

“Prongs -”

“I’ve been going out of my mind waiting by myself, they haven’t told me anything and they won’t even let me in to see mum and dad again until they wake up.”

“James, listen. I talked to McGonagall at the meeting and she says Reg left school.”

James frowned. “Left? He’s only seventeen, isn’t he?”

“He left to join Voldemort – to be a Death Eater – I can’t believe he-”

“Woah, slow down.” James felt like this was too much, the final crack in the armour that had been holding him together all day. “He what?”

“He’s gone to live with Narcissa – with Lucius Malfoy of all people.” Sirius was the one pacing now, almost shouting despite where they were, despite Euphemia and Fleamont sleeping in the next room.

“Don’t shout, will you,” James said. “Look, when did this happen?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago.”

“Then you don’t have to deal with it right now. Just – just wait until tomorrow or something. Neither of us are thinking straight, and -”

“I can’t just wait – he could be doing anything, could be getting into trouble. I need to talk to him, and maybe I can stop him before it’s too late.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” James said, running his hand through his hair. “You know that every time you talk to him it ends in a fight – there’s no point going when you’re this worked up.”

“I have to at least try, James.”

“But you should be here.” James heard his voice crack. He had thought he’d be alright on his own, but he wasn’t, and now Sirius was here he didn’t want him to leave. “You should stay until we get the results back.”

“I can’t – I have to go.”

“Well I can’t go with you.” His voice was rising. “I’m not leaving them. One of us needs to be here when they wake up.”

A flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ face. “He’s my brother,” he said.

“So am I.” James sighed heavily, turning his head to glare at the waiting room door. “Just – just come back as soon as you can.”

* * *

Sirius stormed down the stairs the way he'd come, James' words echoing in his mind.

He was right, of course. In a lot of ways James was more of a brother - certainly a better one - than Regulus had ever been. That didn't change the fact that Sirius and Regulus had grown up together, had sat side by side at the top of the stairs and listened to the splintering of china against the wall when their parents fought, had told each other secrets, and pretended to be pirates, or spies, running through the echoing corridors of the house.

As they got older, all that of changed, but why should that mean that it didn't matter at all?

Maybe Regulus needed him. Maybe James did too, but Sirius couldn't be in two places at once, and the healers had insisted that it seemed unlikely that Fleamont and Euphemia were in any immediate danger.

They'd be fine. And this might be something he could actually fix, instead of sitting helplessly in the hospital waiting room. He was struck suddenly by how horrible it must have been for Remus, when his mum had been dying, to sit in the hospital for hours on end knowing that there was nothing he could do to help. But this wasn’t like that, Sirius reminded himself firmly. The Potters weren’t going to die. 

He was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice Peter until his friend was stood directly in front of him, and even then, Sirius barely stopped in time to avoid walking straight into him.

"How are they?" Peter asked, glancing up at Sirius with concern.

"What?"

"I spoke to James earlier but I couldn't come until after work."

"Pete." Sirius felt a wave of relief as he looked at him. Peter - a friend who was easy to be around, who didn't expect anything of him, not like James or Remus did.

"They're doing ok - lots of tests but - I'm going to Lucius Malfoy's house. You should come."

"What?" Peter asked, confusion evident on his face. They were standing in the foyer of St. Mungo’s, blocking the doorway.

"I need to talk to my brother."

"Isn't your brother at school? I came to see James."

"James doesn't need you," Sirius snapped, grabbing hold of Peter's arm and yanking him out of the way of a wizard who had a plant growing out of one ear. Now that he'd bumped into Peter, he felt a frantic need to keep him with him, to not be alone with his thoughts. "Come on."

Without waiting for a response from Peter, Sirius pulled out his wand, spun on the spot, and concentrated as hard as he could on the manor he knew his cousin Narcissa shared with Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

Malfoy Manor was huge, towering over them, and it made Peter feel very small. Tall iron gates parted for them as they approached and then closed behind them with a clash that continued to ring for several seconds, like a bell. Neat hedges enclosed the grounds and they passed several pure white peacocks roaming across the lawn. When they reached the front doors, engraved with fine, detailed swirls and patterns, Sirius reached out and slammed the knocker down three times without a moment of hesitation, but Peter felt more and more like this was a bad idea. He almost wished he hadn’t come, but Sirius hadn’t given him any choice, and he couldn’t turn back now without Sirius thinking he was a coward. Even now that they’d left Hogwarts, Peter was expected to act like a Gryffindor.

The doors opened slowly, and Peter was confused for a moment by the empty doorway until he noticed the small creature standing in front of them. He’d only seen a house elf a handful of times at Emmeline’s house, but Care of Magical Creatures had always been one of his strongest subjects and he didn’t have any trouble recognising one. Only the richest and oldest wizarding families had house elves, so it wasn’t surprising that one would open Malfoy's front door.

“Is Regulus here?” Sirius demanded immediately. The house elf hesitated and Sirius impatiently said, “Just let me talk to Narcissa.”

“Madam isn't home, Sirs,” the house elf said. “But Dobby will tell Master that you are here.”

“I don’t want to talk to him – where’s my brother?”

“What is all this racket, Dobby?” The voice came from a nearby room, and then Lucius Malfoy stepped up to the door. He frowned at the two of them and then dismissed his house elf, pushing him away with the end of a long cane that Peter guessed he was carrying mostly for the sake of looking important. “What gave you the impression that you would be welcome here, Black?” he said coldly.

“I know Regulus is here,” Sirius said, shoving past Lucius. “Reg!”

“I see there’s no stopping you,” Lucius drawled. As Sirius shouted even louder, Lucius begrudgingly stepped aside and let Peter in.

Soon enough, Regulus appeared at the top of a wide, grand staircase.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Peter couldn’t tell if he sounded pleased or annoyed. Possibly it was both.

“I’m here to stop you from being an idiot,” Sirius replied. Peter restrained himself from shaking his head; Sirius never thought before he spoke.

Regulus came down the stairs, and Lucius regarded him with a strained expression, “It appears there will be no getting rid of them until your brother” – he sneered as he said the word – “has spoken to you, Regulus.”

“Fine,” Regulus barely even looked at Peter. He led Sirius through a heavy wooden door into the next room, and before Peter could decide whether or not to follow them, Sirius slammed the door behind him, leaving him alone with Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

The drawing room, Sirius noticed at once, was decorated head to toe in colours that could only be describe as royal. There was black leather furniture with vivid red carpets, large animal skin rugs and gold upholstery on every surface.

The sight of it momentarily distracted Sirius, until his eyes narrowed on his brother, who had flopped lazily into an arm chair, and was looking at Sirius with a haughty arrogance that seemed much more like Malfoy than himself.

"Regulus," Sirius said, trying his best to remain calm. James had been right after all, he wasn't always the best at controlling his temper. "What are you doing here?"

"I was reading a book actually," Regulus said with a roll of his eyes. "Before you decided to burst in shouting like some sort of savage."

"You know that's not what I mean," Sirius frowned. He perched on the arm of a chair, but was immediately on his feet again, unable to sit still. "Why aren't you at school or - Merlin - even at home with mother would be better than this."

"I am with mother sometimes," Regulus said defensively. "And sometimes I'm here. I go where I'm needed."

"You think they need you?" Sirius said, "really?"

Regulus glowered at him, his forced calm briefly betraying him and his jaw set in a hard line.

"They _do._ " He insisted. "I can do things. Things you're too weak to do."

"They're using you," Sirius argued, his voice rising, "so they need you now - and then what? What happens when Voldemort decides he's sick of you?"

"Don't use that name," Regulus snapped. "And he won't."

"Will you be able to live with yourself? With what they want you to do?"

"I do live with it," Regulus retorted, getting to his feet. "I have to live with it. It's what's right for me, for our family. Not that you'd understand the meaning of that."

He was closer to Sirius now, shouting into his face, and Sirius had to take a deep breath so as not to shout right back.

"No Reg, it's not," he said as calmly as he could manage. "You know that, deep down. It doesn't have to be this way - you can still do the right thing. You could go back to school, I'm sure if I talked to Dumbledore - or you could come and stay with me. We only have one bedroom but you could -”

"I don't want to stay with you and your pathetic _boyfriend_ " Regulus said sharply, "I don't want anything to do with you. Why did you even come here?"

"I wanted to -

"Save me?" Regulus sniggered. "From what? I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

"I don't believe that."

Watching him was unnerving, Sirius thought. While Regulus had feigned nonchalance before, now he was pacing, rubbing his hands together and glaring alternately at the floor, and at Sirius. Some of his mannerisms were familiar, and Sirius knew that when he was upset, he was also prone to restlessness. But he'd never seen his brother loose his calm to this extent before, and the effect was simultaneously infuriating and horribly sad.

"Get out," Regulus said, coming to a stop in front of him. "Go."

"No." Sirius said, grabbing his brother’s wrists as he reached for him. "You can't do this, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Good!" Reg spat, ripping his hands away from Sirius again. "I don't care. I don't care about you. Just go."

"Well I care!" Sirius shouted back. "You don't belong here."

"Yes, I do!" Regulus said, his shouting replaced by a whiny, almost childlike voice that was startling to Sirius. "Look around, Sirius. I've chosen my path and you've chosen yours. This is just the way it is."

"It doesn't have -”

"It does." He shook his head, but if there was any sadness there, it was gone by the time he'd reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand.

"Don't make me force you to leave."

"Regulus."

Without speaking a word, a yellowish gash of light flew from Regulus' wand, hitting the floor just in front of Sirius' feet, where it left a black, charred burn in the otherwise perfect carpet.

Shocked, Sirius staggered backwards, knocking over an expensive looking vase in his haste.

"What spell was that?" he asked, horrified. "Was that - did you just -”

"Next time I won’t miss."

"You stubborn little fuck," Sirius spat. "I want to help you."

"I don't _need_ your help."

"If you're aiming curses like that at your own brother, then yeah," Sirius barked, "apparently you don't."

He turned to walk away, and was about to push his way back through the large wooden doors when he glanced back at Regulus.

"Reg..."

But Regulus' was standing with his back to him, facing towards one of the large paned windows that looked out over the back of Malfoy Manor. He still had his wand clutched in one hand, and Sirius saw the tension in his shoulders tighten when he heard his name.

There were a hundred things Sirius could have said in that moment, some of them good, and just as many insulting.

He didn't think that any of them would do much good.

In the end, a muttered, "be careful," was all he could offer before he slipped out of the door, not waiting for Regulus to reply.

* * *

Peter, to say the least, did not know what to say. Lucius was looking amused at the whole situation, and like everyone else he seemed to have barely noticed Peter.

As the voices on the other side of the door grew louder, Peter could hear snippets of their conversation.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Sirius said. “You can still do the right thing.”

He was so engrossed in listening that it made him jump when Lucius said, “Spoken like a true Gryffindor.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked cautiously. He was so used to hearing the word ‘Gryffindor’ spoken with pride that it was strange to hear the scorn in Lucius’ voice.

“Always telling everyone what’s best for them,” he replied coolly, seeming to focus on Peter for the first time. “Always thinking _their_ way is righteous and honourable. Regulus already knows what’s best for him. He knows the value of blood, of having the right connections. He is following the path that has been set out for him.”

“Sirius is just try to help,” Peter said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh, I’m sure he is, in his own misguided way, but doesn’t he _always_ think his way is the best way? Has he ever for a moment considered that someone else might be right?”

“I guess can get a little caught up in what he thinks.” Peter tried to make his voice sound light, but he wasn’t sure that he succeeded.

“More than a little. I suppose he never listens to you, either.”

Peter shrugged. “Sometimes, sometimes not. I didn’t even want to come here with him but he just grabbed me and apparated.”

“How uncouth.” Lucius was smiling at him now, and he spoke with a conspiratorial tone. “He is too selfish to think about anyone but himself. I doubt he appreciates you being here for him at all.”

“He does care about other people,” Peter said. “James and Remus.”

“But not you?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Typical,” Lucius replied, regarding Peter with what might have been sympathy, but could just have easily have been pity. Peter was more inclined to believe it was the latter.

“It doesn’t sound like your friends value you as they should,” he said. It seemed like he was about to say more, but at that moment the door burst open and Sirius walked out, his anger and pain written all over his face.

“Come on, Peter,” was all he said, walking out of the manor without even stopping to check whether Peter was following him – because Peter always followed him. But as he threw an awkward smile at Lucius and hurried down the drive after Sirius, he began to wonder whether Lucius was right. He cared deeply about his friends, but they always seemed closer to one another than they were to him. He deserved more than that. 

* * *

"Where on earth have you been?"

"Remus?"

"Yes, Remus," Remus said, coming into the hallway of their flat just as Sirius closed the front door. "Remember? Your boyfriend who had no idea where you were for the last few hours?"

Sirius sighed.

He turned to hang up his jacket; he really didn't want to get into any more arguments, not today, and not with Remus.

But when he turned back around, Remus' expression had softened in response to Sirius' own, and he was walking towards him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

"You found him then?" he asked quietly, and Sirius closed his eyes, focusing on Remus' breath on his cheek, and the strength of his arms around him. For a second, he could pretend that everything was okay.

"James told you?" Sirius asked, reluctantly stepping away.

"Yeah."

"I found him. It didn't do any good."

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

"Me too."

They wandered into the living room, Sirius in somewhat of a daze, aware that Remus was gone for a moment, before he was pushing a cup of tea into his hands.

"I should get back to the hospital," Sirius said, staring down at it blankly.

"Soon."

"Is James mad at me?"

"I don't think so," Remus said gently, "he was upset and stressed, but he understands. And Lily's finished work now so she'll be looking after him. I don't think the second round of test results have come back yet."

Sirius nodded, and sipped his tea, which was still a little too hot, and burnt the back of his throat when he swallowed.

"I hope he's not mad."

"Sirius," Remus said, in a strangely purposeful tone. He took Sirius' hand so that he was forced to look at him, "I know this isn't the best time, but I need you to talk to me, okay?"

"What about?"

"No, I mean," Remus sighed. "In general, you don't tell me anything, you just go running off and - I'm your boyfriend, you know? I want you to feel like you can come to me, that you trust me."

"I do trust you, Remus."

"I know, I know. It just sometimes doesn't feel like it. I don't want to make you feel bad, It's just that I was worried and -”

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay. Do you want to talk about what happened with Regulus?"

"Not yet, but soon," Sirius said, leaning his head against Remus' shoulder.

"Okay," Remus said, wrapping an arm around Sirius and tugging him closer, "do you want to go to the hospital?"

"In a bit," Sirius said, closing his eyes again as he leant into the warmth of Remus' body. "Can we just stay like this this for now?"

"Yeah," Remus replied, a small smile creeping onto his face as he looked sideways at Sirius, his head nestled against the crook of Remus' neck, and one hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah, we can do that."

* * *

**5th March 1979**

Compared to last Wednesday, this one was fairly quiet. Peter had no James demanding he come to the hospital or Sirius dragging him off to Malfoy Manor. It was just a normal day at the owl post office in Diagon Alley: there were customers to serve, cages to clean out, and letters and parcels to send. Peter had been working there for six months now so he was trusted to run the place by himself, and he found the routine of it all quite calming.

There had been so few customers, what with the Valentine’s Day rush over, that Peter was the only person in the building when the door was pushed open and the bell above it tinkled.

He looked up and was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy step through the door, brushing snow from his thick fur cloak and from his long, weirdly bright blond hair.

“Peter,” he said, with as much familiarity as if they’d been friends for years instead of having had one brief conversation while eavesdropping on Sirius and Regulus.

“Hi,” Peter said, abandoning the owl he’d been coaxing out of its cage with a dead mouse. He’d found it a bit creepy to be handling so many dead mice when he first starting working there, as he felt a sort of kinship with all rats and mice, but he’d long since got used to it. “Can I help you with something?”

“As a matter of fact you can.” He laid a parcel wrapped in brown paper on the desk. “This is too heavy for my owl to take alone.”

While Peter weighed the parcel, Lucius said casually, “Where is your friend today?”

“Sirius?” Peter scribbled down the weight and began wrapping the parcel with string. “I don’t know. He’s been away for a couple of days on some important miss-” He remembered whom he was talking to and stopped abruptly. “I mean, he’s away. With work.”

“Indeed.” If Lucius noticed how bad Peter’s lie was, which he almost certainly did, he didn’t point it out. “It seems your friends are always off doing something important. One of them is training to be an Auror, isn’t he?”

“James,” Peter said cautiously. He chose two of the more cooperative owls and put on a thick leather glove to carry the first one over to the desk. “Yeah, he is.”

“How… heroic. Did you ever consider following in his footsteps?”

“No,” Peter said, although the thought had crossed his mind. “My professors didn’t think I would be good at that sort of thing.”

“Perhaps they didn’t fully understand your talents.”

“I don’t really have any talents,” Peter said. “I never do anything worthwhile. I leave that to everyone else.”

“And they don’t include you in it?” Lucius asked. If he was looking for information on the Order, Peter thought, he must be disappointed.

“Nope. I just work here.”

“Just?”

“It’s not like working in a post office is brave or anything.”

“Bravery isn’t everything,” Lucius said, with a smooth smile. “Perhaps none of your supposed friends value your job here, but I can see the potential – I see _your_ potential, Peter.”

“…you do?”

“Indeed. Perhaps you could do me a small favour?”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Of course not. That would be an insult to you.”

Peter bit his lip. “What kind of favour?” he asked warily.

“There’s a certain letter that I’d rather not reach its destination. It’s nothing serious, just a small personal matter, but I’d appreciate it if you could… take care of it for me.”

“I don’t know. I could lose my job.”

“I’m sure you are much too clever to get caught, Peter. And besides, I wouldn’t let that happen. I have enough influence to ensure your job is secure.”

“Really?”

Lucius smiled. “I know your friends don’t think much of me, that they would tell you not to trust me, but they aren’t right about everything. A great many wizards respect me.”

“But…”

“You are always in the background, always going unnoticed – you can use that to your advantage. I know that you can do this, Peter.”

“I guess so,” Peter said slowly. Then, more firmly, “Tell me about this letter.”


	8. The Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains death

**16 th April 1989**

James couldn't remember how to breathe.

It was like the air was being repeatedly dragged out of his lungs in deep, ragged breaths that weren't sobs, but that he could feel tearing at his chest with every movement.

He was sitting by his mother's bedside, his hand clutched firmly around hers. Her eyes were closed, just like she was sleeping, and the rhythmic _beep, beep, beep_ of the monitor beside her bed echoed through the silent room.

Beside her was another bed. The sheets had been taken away earlier in the day and now only a thin, sickly green coloured piece of linen marked the space where Fleamont Potter had lain only last night - marked the place where he had died.

Lily's arms were around his shoulders, but her touch felt foreign as James watched his mother’s chest rise and fall.

He knew that she couldn't hold on for much longer. That much was obvious by the sadness in the eyes of the healers when they spoke to him, by the stark absence of his father and the whispers of _"if only we'd caught it sooner"_ that echoed in his mind.

If only.

James was an only child, but he'd never felt alone before. Even prior to meeting Sirius, his parents had been loving and kind and the only home he'd ever known. Now he could feel, in a horrifying visceral way, that sense of belonging being torn from him.

And he couldn't breathe.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there, or how long is had been since any of them spoke, but when Lily cleared her throat quietly and asked "does anyone want some tea?" she may as well have been shouting the words directly into his ear.

He glanced up to see her worried face looking down at him sadly. She looked exhausted, he realised, having not yet been home since her shift the night before. Her makeup was smeared along her eyelids, and her lip was red and swollen where she had been worrying it with her teeth.

James looked at her, and felt the familiar urge to comfort her, to make everything okay. But that wasn't how it worked. Not this time. James was always in control, and the helplessness he felt as he sat in the hospital room, unable to do anything to save the most important people in his life, was unbearable.

"That's okay, Lils," he said at last, squeezing her hand.

She nodded, wisps of hair falling into her eyes as she turned to Sirius and Remus.

They were huddled together by the door of the private room that James' parents had occupied for the past week. Sirius' head was against Remus' shoulder and he, like James had been, was staring as though in a trance at Mrs. Potter, bundled inside her hospital bed. As far as James could tell, he had been standing like that for hours.

Remus glanced down at Sirius when Lily turned to them, but the latter made no attempt to move, or answer, so Remus shook his head in response before brushing Sirius' hair away from his face, whispering soothing words that James couldn't make out.

He felt suddenly as though he were intruding on someone else's grief.

Sirius had cried and shouted and banged his fist against the wall when they'd learnt of Fleamont's death the night before. James had done none of those things.

He couldn't.

Not when just a couple of weeks ago his parents had visited him and Lily, bringing several plates of baked goods and a set of records they'd procured from a muggle music shop that had opened up in the village.

"You and Sirius would have been mad for the place," they'd told him, smiling nostalgically. "You're so grown up now."

But he wasn't, James thought bitterly. He didn't feel like a grown up at all, and he didn't know how to get through the day knowing that his father was gone, knowing that soon, his mother would be gone too.

It couldn't be happening.

And yet when the monitor beside Euphemia's bed started screeching at them, when the red line that had up until now proven that she was still with him flattened, he couldn't feel surprised either.

They were gone. And as Lily's arms around him tightened, as Sirius finally moved away from the door and stepped towards the bed, James felt his throat tighten as he tried to suck in enough air to keep going. As he tried to process what this meant.

The tears were finally coming, hot and fast and terrible. This was it. They were dead, and he couldn't breathe.

* * *

**19 th April 1989**

The Ministry was unusually quiet in the evenings.

It had only been an hour or so since the majority of his colleagues left, and yet the empty desks and eerie silence were enough to send a chill down James' spine.

He'd stayed late despite the concerned look in Moody's eye as he slunk out of the office and the offer from Frank to head over to his house for dinner. It had been a kind offer, but Alice and Frank had only been married for a few weeks, and James didn't want to intrude.

He also didn't want to be alone in the house while Lily was at work, so he'd stayed, sorting files that didn't really need sorting and putting all the training equipment from that day’s sessions away. It reminded him of being Quidditch captain - cleaning up after everyone. That train of thought led him to thoughts of Benjy - Gryffindor's current Quidditch captain - which led him to thoughts of Chloe - which he quickly tried to shake from his mind.

It had only been a few days since he, Lily, Sirius and Remus had stood in St. Mungo's, watching as his mother took her final breaths. It was still raw and painful and yet in some ways, James felt as though it had happened years ago, as though he could barely remember the soothing feel of his mum wrapping her arms around him, or the sound of his dad's laugh. It was current and distant all at once, and the sensation was overwhelming.

All he knew is that he didn't want to be alone.

He trailed down the corridor out of the Auror's headquarters, wondering if anyone had fixed the office in the Department of International Magical Cooperation that had been raining earlier in the day. If not, maybe he could give it a go.

His attention was caught, however, by the appearance of someone he never imagined seeing in the Ministry - Mulciber. James hadn't seen him since they'd been at school together, and he had had no business being in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at this hour.

James stepped back into the shadows of a doorway where he couldn't be seen as Mulciber passed. As he did so, he noticed that Mulciber was twirling his wand repeatedly between two fingers, muttering to himself. He paused at the end of the corridor, looking in both directions as though he was expecting to see someone else, before continuing in a straight line.

His actions were extremely suspicious, and when James' mind raced with what he could possibly be doing, a memory came to him.

When he'd been tidying Moody's desk - for lack of anything better to do - he'd come across a note informing Moody of an important meeting taking place that very evening. A meeting where, the Minister claimed, they had the opportunity to gather information on Voldemort from someone with intimate knowledge of the death eaters themselves.

If that person was Mulciber, James was sure the meeting had to be a ploy.

Maybe they weren't in school anymore, but James had never been more sure that he couldn't trust somebody.

Impulsively, he decided to follow Mulciber.

Wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him, James trailed after him, trying to keep far enough back so as to not draw attention to himself. It was an adrenalin rush, he realised at once - an opportunity to put some of his Auror training to the test, and something that allowed him to think about something other than his parents’ deaths.

Mulciber didn't go far. Moody's note hadn't said where the meeting was being held, but it turned out that the Minister for Magic, along with a number of his associates, were located in a large meeting room at the back of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Mulciber entered the room and was regarded, James was relieved to see, with suspicion from the witches and wizards around him.

James knew he couldn't follow and risk being caught snooping around outside an official meeting. Not when he was only a first year trainee Auror.

He did, however, happen to know a very useful spell for seeing through walls.

Moody had only taught it to them a week ago, but after a handful of failed attempts the spell worked, opening up a window in the wall that James could see though, but that was invisible to anyone inside.

"And why should we trust you, Mr. Mulicber?" The Minister was asking, regarding Mulciber over the top of his glasses.

Mulciber answered in a disgustingly sweet tone of voice that made James feel quite ill. "I never believed the Dark Lord’s promises," he told the Minister, "and I've never personally had any problem with muggleborns."

Thinking of how his friend Mary had been hospitalised by Mulicber two years ago purely for being a muggle born, James knew this to be a complete lie.

He craned his neck to get a better view and with a jolt of horror, he saw that Mulciber had one hand gripped around his wand, the tip of which was pointed directly at the Minister under the table.

Surely they'd have taken his wand, James thought, panicked. But clearly Mulciber had planned ahead. There was a wand placed on the table in front of him - almost identical to the one in his hand - no one had thought to check him for another. Why would they? It was extremely rare for a wizard to carry a second, or somebody else’s, wand.

James' whole body tensed.

If the second wand didn't belong to Mulciber, then who else was here?

Standing up hastily, James glanced around at the dim corridors. Pulling his own wand from the back of his jeans, he held in blindly in front of him.

"Is anyone there?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly. "Show yourselves."

He'd forgotten one key rule of being an Auror, James knew, as he heard several whispers in the darkness, coming from all around him.

He'd seen Mulciber check the corridors on his way to the office, and yet James had dismissed the action as him checking for people who might catch him. He hadn't considered that he'd been making sure his back up was in place.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice said, and a tall man stepped out of the shadows directly to James' left. He whirled around, pointing his wand at the man's chest.

"James Potter; why doesn't it surprise me that you'd be one to get in our way?"

"Who are you?" James demanded. The man's face was obscured by a ludicrous silver mask, and although James was sure he knew him from somewhere, he couldn't place the voice.

"Why should I tell you? If I recall, you were going to be the one to stop us." He regarded James with humour, "how's that working out for you?"

"Yaxley," James said furiously, remembering his and Frank's exchange with the man a few months ago. "You won't get away with this."

"Oh really?" Yaxley smirked, "because from where I'm standing, we're about to have a Minister for Magic who's under the control of an imperius curse and a poor, dead, baby Auror."

James cast his spell without thinking. Yaxley clearly wasn't expecting it, because he only managed to block at the last moment, before firing a hex back at James that narrowly missed.

Fuelled by his anger, James backed up along the corridor, firing spell after spell at Yaxley, feeling the release of energy as he blocked and moved naturally in time with the duel.

Then a spell hit him squarely in the back and he was blasted forwards, past Yaxley, where he landed against the wall, hitting his head painfully.

"Shit," he muttered, glad at least to see that he still had his wand.

The action seemed to have alerted the Minister to the commotion too, as several witches and wizards were exiting the meeting room, looking stunned to find a masked death eater outside their door.

Momentarily James was relieved.

Then he saw movement all around him and with a pang of horror, James saw at least a dozen other death eaters stepping forward. Some had their wands pointed at him, and others were barrelling down the hallway, towards the Minister.

"Shit," James repeated. He rolled onto his side as a spell flew towards him, hitting the wall where he'd been only a moment ago and blasting the stone apart.

He clambered to his feet despite his pounding head, shooting spells indiscriminately behind him as he ran - away from the Minister, away from the death eaters - away.

He was vastly outnumbered. He needed help.

He came to a stop when he found a store cupboard a floor above him, which he rushed into, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it with a spell.

He was breathing too heavily, and he ached everywhere, but he needed to concentrate, he told himself, trying to calm down. He had to alert The Order.

Holding his wand out, he tried to stop his hand from shaking at he whispered the charm they'd all been taught to produce message-bearing patronuses that would automatically deliver a message to all members of the order, but as hard as James tried, he couldn't make it work. His mind was too full of worry, of fear and the ever present knowledge of his parents’ death to concentrate on anything happy at all.

"Don't panic," he whispered to himself, leaning heavily against the door. "There's got to be something else, there's got to be."

Inspiration struck a moment later, and he reached into his pocket.

Ever since his parents got sick, he and Sirius had been carrying around their two way mirrors in case they needed to contact each other in a hurry. Thankfully, he hadn't yet gotten around to taking it out of his robes.

"Sirius," James gasped, holding the mirror up in front of him desperately. "Sirius? Sirius, please be there. Merlin, please..."

"James?" Sirius' face appeared in the mirror, his brows furrowed as he looked through the glass at his friend. "Are you okay mate? You look like shit."

"Thank Merlin," James breathed, "Sirius listen to me, there's an emergency."

"An emergency?" The voice was Remus', and he appeared beside Sirius in the mirror a moment later.

"Yes, listen," James repeated. "I'm at the Ministry. The place is crawling with death eaters and I don't know what to do. I think I hexed some of them but then I ran and I - I'm okay now. I think. But you need to tell the Order - they need to get here now."

"Christ James, where are you?" Sirius demanded, looking frantic. "Are you sure you're safe?"

"I'm fine, I'm in a room the floor above the Auror offices - just get hold of Moody and whoever you can, quickly!"

Sirius and Remus disappeared, and James saw his own reflection staring anxiously back at him as the mirror returned to normal.

He hoped they would hurry. There were only a handful of people in the office with the Minister, and James wasn't sure whether they'd be a match for the number of death eaters who'd been waiting for them.

* * *

James’ face disappeared from the two-way mirror, leaving Remus looking into his own scarred face, he and Sirius wearing matching expressions of shock.

“Let’s go,” Sirius said, springing into action. “We can apparate to the Ministry -”

“Sirius, wait,” Remus said, grabbing his arm. “You heard James! We have to contact the Order – we can’t face all those death eaters alone.”

“Then you do that.” Sirius’ voice cracked as he pulled his arm free. “I have to go. I just – I can’t lose him too.”

And before Remus could reply, Sirius span on the spot and was gone in an instant.

Remus wanted to follow him, to discard all his caution and run right into the fight, but knew that James’ chances of getting out of the Ministry alive depended on Remus bringing back up. With a shaking hand he held his wand aloft, searching his mind for a happy memory strong enough to overcome the fear coursing through his veins. He settled on a memory he had often returned to in times of need: the moment when his friends revealed to him that they had become animagi. James grinning at him as he transformed into a stag, Sirius bounding up to him in dog form and nuzzling against his hand, Peter racing round his feet with his long tail trailing behind him.

With a deep breath, Remus muttered “ _expecto patronum.”_ Silvery light burst from the end of his wand, taking the form of a wolf for just a moment before it split into a dozen different identical creatures, streaking away to spread his message to the other Order members.

_The Ministry is under attack. James is in danger. Hurry._

That done, he turned his thoughts to the Ministry, grasped his wand tightly, and a moment later he was there, the atrium cold and quiet around him. But it was only seconds before there was a soft _pop_ and Alastor Moody appeared beside him. Frank and Alice stepped out from a fireplace opposite them, shaking the soot from their robes. In moments, they were joined by Peter, Lily, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, the Prewetts, and Caradoc Dearborn.

“Remus!” Lily said at once. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know – James contacted Sirius with the two-way mirrors. He only said that there were death eaters everywhere.”

“Never mind why. Where are they, Lupin?” Moody said gruffly. They all looked to him.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

A look of understanding passed across Moody’s face. “I should have seen that Mulciber was setting a trap,” he growled. “Right – Dearborn and Prewetts with me. McKinnon with Meadowes and Potter. Lupin with the Longbottoms. Pettigrew – wait here. If any more of us arrive, send them on. Anyone you don’t trust turns up, keep them here.”

“I can fight too,” Peter protested.

Moody either didn’t hear him or didn’t listen, because he was already making his way towards the lifts.

“Remus,” Peter said. “You can’t just leave me here.”

“You’ll be fine, Pete,” Remus said irritably. Every moment spent here was a moment that James and Sirius were in danger. “You’re out of the way here.”

“Out of the way?” Peter repeated indignantly. “Why does no one trust me to do anything? You never let me help!”

“You know I didn’t mean – I just mean you’ll be safer here! Goddammit, Peter, what does it matter? There’s no time for this – James and Sirius are in there!”

He ran after Frank and Alice, joining them just as the lift doors closed behind them. The lift jolted downwards, sinking underground

“This is really it,” Frank said. “This feels more important than anything I’ve done as an Auror. It's really happening – and at the _Ministry_ of all places.”

“You’re rambling, love,” Alice murmured, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay, Remus?”

“I’m fine.” It was the most blatant lie he had ever told, but he had to make it true. He had to hold everything together long enough to find James and Sirius, to make sure they were safe.

A calm voice that felt entirely at odds with the situation announced that they had reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The doors opened, and the tense silence of the lift at once gave way to shouting voices and the clashes of misdirected spells.

Remus raced ahead, not waiting to see if Alice and Frank were following him. He’d expected to find them all in one room, but somehow the death eaters seemed to be everywhere, and fights were breaking out all around him as the rest of the Order members flooded the halls.

“Sirius!” Remus shouted. “James!”

But he couldn’t make out any individual voices as he darted in and out of different rooms, dodging curses and ignoring the faces around him. He passed a line of desks that were dented and charred, a cabinet that had been hit with a spell so violent it had been reduced to a mess of melted metal, and through doors that had been blown from their hinges. In mere minutes the battle had turned an ordinary floor of offices and meeting rooms into a war zone.

It wasn’t until he ran out into a quiet corridor, somehow isolated from the rest of the fight, and he almost ran into a masked death eater who shot a spell at him automatically. But when Remus deflected it, the death eater didn't cast another spell. Instead he took an uncertain step backwards. After a moment of hesitation, he took off his mask.

“Regulus.” Remus hadn’t even considered that he might be here. When James said that there were death eaters in the Ministry, the faces he’d pictured were of Mulciber and Dolohov, not Sirius’ little brother. He looked far too young to be involved in anything so dangerous. “Have you seen your brother?” Remus asked on impulse.

“What?” Regulus said, his brow furrowing. He lowered his wand slightly. “Sirius is here?”

“Yes – he came to find James.”

For a moment, a flicker of worry crossed Regulus’ face; it seemed impossible that the two of them were really in this situation. Remus had spoken to Regulus very little at school, their exchanges confined to brief greetings. But now the fight, the chaos all around them, felt distant somehow, and Remus could almost believe that they were having this conversation in the corridors of Hogwarts on the way to a lesson or to the Great Hall.

And then Regulus’ expression changed. He lifted his wand again and said, “What do I care? If he gets himself killed it’s his own fault.”

“You don’t believe that,” Remus said urgently. “Look, just help me find him and then we can get out of here. No one needs to get hurt. He’s your family.”

“Don’t talk to me about my family,” Regulus snarled. “And don’t think I won’t hurt you just because you’re his _boyfriend_.”

The sounds of the fight grew louder, like more people had arrived. The whole floor seemed to be alight, the flashes of dozens of curses throwing shadows out into the corridor.

“I know you weren’t always like this, Regulus – you can be a better person, I know that.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” Regulus cried. “You’re just like him, always telling me who I’m meant to be. Well I know who I am, and I’m nothing like you!”

His wand was pointed directly at Remus’ chest, and Remus prepared to defend himself, but the attack never came. Regulus' courage seemed to fail him, and he opened his mouth to speak – but then the wall beside them burst apart, pieces of brick exploding outwards. The sound was louder than he could have imagined, cutting through all the other shouts and explosions. Remus ducked his head, shielding his eyes, and when he looked back up he was face to face with Severus Snape.

He had stepped right through the hole in the wall, coming between Remus and Regulus.

“Well look who it is!” Snape’s smile was cold. He lifted his wand but Regulus cried, “Wait!”

Snape frowned at him. “What’s wrong with you? He’s just a filthy werewolf.”

But when he pointed his wand at Remus, Regulus grabbed his wrist and deflected the spell upwards. The ceiling opened up like an eye, rubble falling down upon them. Remus didn’t wait for the dust to clear – he had wasted enough time already. He darted through the hole in the wall, Snape’s and Regulus’ voices fading into the general clamour around him, and ran through empty rooms until he reached a large hall that appeared to be a training room.

Frank and Alice were there, inseparable as always, standing back to back as they fought a pair of masked death eaters. And, to Remus’ immense relief, Sirius and James were there too, on the opposite side of the room. James’ glasses were broken and his hair was matted with blood on one side, but the two of them were both still standing – and that was enough.

Remus’ eyes met Sirius’ for the briefest of moments, before a curse lit up the air between them and struck the wall so hard that the whole building seemed to shake. All eyes turned to the wand that had cast such a spell; it was held in a white, long-fingered hand belonging to a figure in dark robes. His eyes were unnatural - the colour of blood – and he had slits for nostrils. Remus had never seen him before, but he had no trouble recognising Voldemort.

The Dark Lord spoke, touching the tip of his wand to his throat so that his voice was magically amplified. Every other sound seemed to fade away, bowing to the authority of his voice.

_Enough. This battle is done. We leave now._

His gaze swept the room, resting for a moment upon Sirius and James. Remus’ chest constricted in fear, his hand tightening on his wand, but Voldemort merely span around, and with a swirl of dark robes he was gone.

* * *

Peter had been waiting for over twenty minutes, fiddling with his wand and pacing back and forth. A few more Order members had arrived and rushed straight on into the battle, but the longer Peter was alone the more he felt unsafe. What was he meant to do if the death eaters found him? He couldn’t defend himself if he was outnumbered. But no one had cared enough to think about that, no one had come to check on him. The atrium was entirely silent so he had no idea what was happening, no way of knowing whether or not they were winning the fight.

He was alone and he was afraid.

Eventually, just when Peter was considering going down to see for himself what was happening, there was a loud bang and the floor shook beneath his feet. This was followed by impossibly loud words spoken in a cold, eerie voice.

_Enough. This battle is done. We leave now._

The last of Peter’s courage gave way, and he was about to apparate away when footsteps approached him and a trio of death eaters rounded the corner and burst into the atrium. Peter froze in place, his wand in his hand but his head too clouded with fear to produce any spells that might have helped him. This was it; this was how it was going to end. He wasn’t going to die of old age in his bed, or even go down in the glory of battle like a true Gryffindor. His life was going to end here, uselessly, pointlessly, with no one there to help him.

One of the death eaters raised his wand, and Peter felt a new wave of fear flow through his veins. But just as Peter thought it was all over, another death eater said, “No, leave him.”

“Why?” the first death eater said. “He’s one of them.”

“No,” he repeated, and this time Peter recognised Lucius Malfoy’s voice behind his mask. “You heard the Dark Lord. The battle is over. Let’s go.”

The three of them stepped into the fire places lining the walls, throwing down handfuls of powder. The flames turned green and engulfed them, leaving Peter alone once more. He fell to his knees, his whole body shaking.

He was alive. He was so sure he was about to die, but he was still here. And Lucius Malfoy had saved his life.

* * *

Sirius stared at the spot where Voldemort had vanished, replaying in his mind the sight of his blood red eyes and ghostly appearance. He'd never seen anyone who looked more like one of the villains in Remus' comic books before in his life, and he could only imagine the kind of dark magic that he'd have had to conjure to tear himself apart so completely.

It was a sobering thought, after the heat of the battle - he really was evil.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Remus' arms around his neck. "I couldn't find you," he whispered, and Sirius knew that he must have been as scared as he'd been, trying to find James in the dark with the knowledge that there were death eaters lurking all around him.

"I'm here," he said.

Remus let go of him and hugged James, squeezing him tightly.

"You're both idiots," he told them sternly.

"Speaking of which," Sirius said, turning to James. "What were you thinking!?"

Most people had vacated the room, and they were surrounded now only with the dusty piles of rubble and the echoing voices of people trying to reach out to one another through the wreckage.

"I just -

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Sirius told him harshly, "even if it was just Mulciber, James, you know - you know - he's dangerous. Why didn't you call for back up straight away?"

"I don't know," James sighed, shaking dust out of his hair. "I wanted to do something. I just - I wanted to feel... like I wasn't hurting all the damn time. Like I could be useful."

"I know how you feel," Sirius told him insistently. "I do," he said, when James looked away. "It might not be exactly the same but they were my parents too and -" his voice broke, and James looked up at him again, the fear and horror of the day washing over him all at once as he looked at his brother.

"I'm sorry," James said. "I shouldn't have tried to stop Mulciber alone."

"No, you bloody well shouldn't," Sirius agreed. Then, echoing the words he'd said to Remus earlier, he added, "I can't lose you too."

The next thing Sirius knew they were hugging, James' face pressed into his shoulder as he took deep, pained breaths.

"I love you," he told Sirius firmly. Then, "we're going to be okay, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied with a lot more confidence than he felt. "We've got each other. And..." he added, looking over James shoulder, "you've got her too."

James turned to see Lily in the doorway, flushed in the face and looking at him with such immense relief that James thought she might need to sit down.

"I didn't know you were here," he said as she rushed over to them. "I'm sorry Lils, I'm okay. I'm fine."

Sirius turned away as they embraced, smiling reassuringly at Remus who was watching the scene apprehensively.

 "I think that's enough excitement for one day, don't you?" he asked when he saw Sirius watching him.

"Quite possibly," Sirius said. He stepped closed to Remus and held out a hand to him. "Home?"

"Home." Remus agreed.

* * *

**20 th April 1989**

It was surreal, after the battle at the Ministry, to go back to work the next day as if everything was the same as it had always been. Peter felt like the life he had been living was a lie, like the feeling of security he’d had since settling in at the post office was merely a safety blanket he’d been hiding behind. There was a war going on, he could see that now, and he no longer felt sure about his place in it.

So when Lucius Malfoy walked into the post office, it felt almost natural. Peter’s life had been turned upside down, so why shouldn’t a death eater be here? It’s not like it was the first time he’d visited Peter at work.

“Peter,” Lucius said pleasantly. “I hoped I would see you here.”

“Hi,” Peter said, busying his hands with putting away some envelopes to hide that he was shaking. “I’m not entirely sure I can return the compliment.”

Lucius smiled, resting his cane on top of the desk Peter was standing behind. “You needn't be afraid of me, Peter. I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re not?” Peter replied warily.

“Of course not. We have an understanding, don’t we?”

“We do?”

“Certainly. You did me a favour, intercepting that letter a few weeks ago. And I returned the favour last night.”

Peter felt like they were walking on the edge of a great chasm, avoiding talking about precisely what had happened at the Ministry, and that if he said the wrong thing he would fall into its depths.

“I suppose we’re even, then?” he asked anxiously.

“For now. But I hope there might be a few more favours you can do for me, now and then. And I can help you, as well.” He leant across the desk and said conspiratorially, “We’ll look out for each other from now on.”

“I guess that sounds okay,” Peter replied slowly.

“Excellent.” Lucius stepped back from the desk. “Then I’ll be seeing you soon.”

He walked back out the door without waiting for Peter to reply, leaving him with less idea than ever of where he stood.


	9. Broken China

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is so incredibly late! We’re both doing Master’s degrees and got swamped with uni work, but we should be back to having a regular schedule now and will be updating every two weeks. Thanks for being patient with us – enjoy the chapter :)
> 
> Trigger warning: lots of death!

**12th August 1979**

Ever since his parents’ deaths, James had noticed a slight change in how some of his friends acted around him. They were a little more careful, more considerate. A lot of the time it was irritating, but James didn't mind the midweek dinners that had become somewhat of a habit at Frank and Alice's house. It had started out as just him and Lily, but soon enough it had become a group occasion, with half of the Order piling into their dining room every week, armed with cans of beer and trays of food. 

It was nice – normal even.

James had never been a huge fan of normal, but walking into the house and seeing his friends – Sirius, Remus and Peter – sitting around the dining table with Marlene, the Prewetts and Kingsley, filled him with a sense of warmth that was so often lacking these days. 

Frank took his and Lily's coats, Alice pushed goblets of wine into their hands, and they joined the others around the cramped table. 

"Kingsley!" James said eagerly as he slid into the seat beside him, "I hear you finished your training." 

"Fully qualified," Kingsley nodded proudly. "I just wish the Ministry were more focused on looking for Voldemort. Especially after what happened in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in April."

"I know," James frowned. 

"We can do much more with the Order, I think," Kingsley shrugged. "If we're going to make a difference anywhere, it's here."

"Speaking of which," Frank said, reappearing with a plate of sandwiches in his hand, "well done on the mission the other day, you two." He nodded at Lily and James. "I can't believe you managed to trap Dolohov like that. With any luck he'll be put away for a long time."

"Or they'll be able to get some information out of him," Sirius put in. He regarded James from the other side of the table, pointing a sandwich as him, "I never liked the bloke anyway." 

"You never liked any of the Slytherins," Peter said reasonably. 

"With good reason," Sirius said. 

Shaking his head at his boyfriend, Remus plucked the sandwich out of Sirius' hand and took a bite, "what about your cousin, Andromeda?" he asked. 

"Hey," Sirius said, frowning at his stolen sandwich. He grabbed another from the tray. "She doesn't count." 

"Mhmm," Remus said. "Of course not." 

There was a knock at the door, and while Alice hurried out to answer it, James addressed Frank. "Anyway, you guys have been doing great work too," he said. "Moody told me all about the information you and Alice got from those Giants the other day. It's going to help so much." 

"Yeah," Frank said bashfully. "I hope so." 

There was a lull in the conversation, and James turned to Lily, watching as she chatted with Marlene. It was nice to see her enjoying herself, James thought, nice that they could all share this time together outside of the Order meetings; just a group of friends having fun.

When Alice returned, she was talking enthusiastically with someone who James hadn't seen since his wedding. 

"Benjy!" he exclaimed. 

Benjy glanced around at the room full of people, all of whom had looked up at his entrance. Smiling nervously, he waved his hand in greeting and said, "hi guys." 

"We didn't know you were coming," Lily told him, standing up to hug him. 

"Fabian invited me last minute," he explained, smiling over at him. 

"Thought it was better to ease him into the Order with food and wine than Moody's usual spiel," Fabian explained.

"How have you all been anyway?" Benjy asked, dragging over another chair and positioning himself between Fabian and Remus. 

"Actually," Frank grinned. "Alice and I have some news." 

"Not yet!" Alice hissed from the kitchen. "Help me with these."

Frank obligingly helped her carry in several more plates of food, and the two of them finally sat down, smiling around the table at their friends. 

"Do you want to tell them?" Alice asked her husband giddily, "or should I?" 

"You do it," Frank insisted, taking her hand. 

James watched curiously as Alice nodded her head, turning to them with excitement in her hazel eyes. 

"Well," she said, "Nothing's happened yet so no need to get over excited – but Frank and I have been trying for a baby!"

The two of them stared excitedly around the table, but for a moment their friends remained silent. 

Surprisingly, it was Marlene who spoke first. "That’s fantastic," she said, with more sincerity than James would have expected from her. "You'll make great parents." 

Immediately there was a chorus of agreement from the others, and James saw Sirius clap Frank on the shoulder, muttering words of encouragement.

Then he felt Lily shift beside him. 

"Isn't it dangerous?" 

"What?" Alice asked, leaning forwards in her seat and gazing curiously at Lily. 

"Having a baby," Lily said, an edgy of panic to her voice. "It's your choice, of course," she said hastily, "but we're in the middle of a war – you've said yourself that the Prophet are refusing to report all the muggleborn attacks that have been happening." 

Alice nodded uneasily, and James remembered her recounting the argument she'd had with her boss about the scrapping of several stories she had written on the issue. "I hate everything that's happening," Alice said, "but I'm not going to let that stop us from living our lives." She turned to Frank. "We want to start a family together, so that's what we're going to do." 

Lily’s expression softened. "Then congratulations," she smiled.

James thought she meant it, but watching as she poured herself another glass of wine, he could also sense that the news had served to make her deeply uncomfortable.

Thinking about it, James couldn't help but agree. He and Lily hadn't talked much about children, but of course he'd thought about too – they had been married for almost a year after all, and it was the natural next step. James loved the idea of a family, and he was certain that one day he and Lily would create one together. He just wasn't sure whether he'd be willing to do so when they didn't know whether one of their friends would be killed from one day to the next – didn’t even know whether he could guarantee his child’s safety. With all the danger around him, could he take a step back from the fighting to take care of a child?

He looked down at his empty plate, aware that the others were talking around him but too caught up in his own thoughts to pay much attention to what they were saying. Was it selfish of Frank and Alice to have a baby in the middle of a war? James wasn't sure, but he admired the certainty of their decision all the same. Maybe they'd be able to keep the war and their family separate – maybe everything would work out fine for them. 

But there was no certainty in the matter, and James couldn't help but feel a lingering concern as he wondered how much a baby would change things for them. He picked up his wine glass, trying to put his worry out of his mind; clearly he hadn't been paying attention to his friends, bedcause the next thing he knew, his glass was knocked out of his hand as Kingsley gestured animatedly beside him. It fell to the floor, letting out a loud splintering chime.

* * *

The china had been shattered. The Bones family had been in the middle of their evening meal when the death eaters arrived. Dinner plates were split open, their cracks as white as bone. Shards of glass caught the dim light from their wands. Regulus had the urge to whisper a quick reparo and watch the broken fragments be made whole again – to fix some of the damage they'd done: he'd done. 

But the Bones family, unlike their china, were beyond repair. There was a body slumped against the dinner table – the elderly mother who hadn’t even made it out of her seat before the door was blown open and the first killing curse struck. Her plate was miraculously unbroken, still laden with mashed potatoes and scraps of chicken. A meal she would never finish.

The rest of the family had fled the room, all but the dead woman's husband, who had stayed beside her in his final moments. He hadn’t put up a fight, hadn’t even drawn his wand – his body had crumpled on the floor, his eyes still open. No one had bothered to close them. Regulus wondered if he should. Didn’t the dead at least deserve that shred of decency?

The six death eaters who had committed the massacre were searching the house now, looking for any survivors, but they weren’t being thorough. Edgar Bones had been their target, and with him dead they were restless, wanting to leave before the Aurors arrived.

Regulus wandered away from Crabbe and Rowle, who seemed more concerned with the spoils they could find than the murders they had committed. He saw Rowle pocket a lock of unicorn hair and an old goblet.

In the corridor, he had to step over the body of Edgar Bones. His wand had rolled out of his hand and been snapped in half by Selwyn’s boot. Edgar had fought well, could even hold his ground against Bellatrix, but with his parents dead he was vastly outnumbered. He hadn’t stood a chance, not really. Though Regulus hadn’t been the one to cast the final curse, the flash of green light that had chased the life from his body, he had directed a stunning spell that had distracted Edgar long enough for the more deadly curse to find its target. It might as well have been Regulus’ hand that struck him down.

The final body was that of Edgar’s wife. Regulus didn’t know her name, only knew that she was in the Order of the Phoenix and had caused enough problems for the Dark Lord to earn her a death sentence. She had run upstairs at first, but when Edgar hadn’t followed she had turned in time to see him die. Her scream when Edgar’s body hit the floor was still ringing in Regulus’ ears, chasing away every other thought. The curses she had rained down upon them had blasted one of the walls apart and left a deep gash in Nott’s arm, but it hadn’t taken long until she joined the rest of her family in death.

Regulus stepped over her body on his way up the stairs, trying not to let his gaze linger upon her. He muttered _lumos_ and did a quick search of each of the upstairs rooms – the only ones undisturbed. The final room was locked, and Regulus almost left it that way when he heard a small sound from within, like a whimper.

He pointed his wand at the lock, and with a sharp click the door swung open. Inside were two children, a girl of about six or seven and a younger boy. The bedroom was clearly theirs, with two small beds and the floor scattered with toys and games. The little boy was holding a toy rabbit that was damp with tears, and the girl stood in front of him protectively.

The sight of them flooded Regulus’ heart with guilt. He didn’t know there were children – they must have been ushered to safety as soon as the first curse had been cast. They looked at him with a mixture of fear and confusion, too young to understand what had happened or why.

“Leave us alone,” the girl said, standing her ground despite everything. Her chin was wobbling with the threat of tears, but she stayed between Regulus and her little brother.

Slowly, wordlessly, Regulus removed his mask.

“Sshh,” he urged, as gently as he could manage. He pocketed his wand and crouched down in front of them. He remembered when he'd been young and scared of the dark, and how he'd wander down the hall to Sirius' room. His brother would groan, and pull a face at him, but he'd still pull him into bed beside him, telling him that he didn't need to be scared.

As he stood knelt in front of the children, Regulus was struck with a sense of longing. Why couldn't he be seven years old again? When all he had to fear were ghouls under his bed; when his father was alive, and his brother wasn't a enemy but a friend.

“You don’t need to be scared." He whispered to the children, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I need you to stay in here, okay? And if you hear anyone coming, hide under your beds.”

They just stared at him uncomprehendingly, eyes wide.

“It’s like a game,” he said hurriedly. “Like hide and seek.”

“Black!” called Rowle’s voice from downstairs. “Did you find anything?”

His voice made the little girl jump, and the boy’s face screwed up, threatening another wave of tears.

“There’s nothing here,” Regulus called back, keeping his voice as level as he could. To the children, he added, “I need to go now, but you’re going to be okay. Just – just stay here.”

The girl nodded, her face solemn. Regulus had no idea what she thought had happened, whether she knew the danger they were in, but there was no time to make her understand. As he stood up and replaced his mask, the was another flash of light: it came from outside, the light from the window dousing the room in green light. He knew that the dark mark now hung over the house like a storm cloud, proclaiming to all who saw it the death and destruction they had caused.

Regulus went back down the stairs, not even really seeing the bodies anymore.

“It’s done,” Bellatrix said, returning from outside. She had taken off her mask, and there was a cruel delight in her expression that turned Regulus’ blood cold. She kicked Edgar Bones’ body with the pointed tip of her shoe and Regulus flinched.

“There are no survivors?” she asked him. His throat was too dry to form words, so he shook his head. “Then we’re done here.”

Bellatrix lifted her wand, and relief swept over Regulus. In mere moments, they would be gone, and the destruction would be through – for that night, at least.

But his relief was short lived. The children had followed him out of the room and met their mother’s body on the stairs. The girl had frozen in place, her wide and tearful eyes fixed upon her mother’s unseeing ones, both pairs the same deep blue. The boy had dropped his rabbit, and without it to comfort him he began to wail.

Every gaze turned towards the children.

“Well, well,” Bellatrix said, her wand still raised. “Look at this. Another generation of halfblood brats.”

The boy cried louder, but the girl stayed silent. When she finally looked away from her mother’s body, she fixed her gaze upon Regulus.

“Wait,” he said, forcing the words out. “Don’t hurt them.”

Bellatrix ignored him. He looked towards Nott and Crabbe, but they wouldn’t meet his eye.

“They’re only children,” he said. “Bella, please.”

She laughed, an out of control sound that burst from her lips.

“Little Reg,” she sneered. “I thought you had more backbone than this. More than your dear brother.”

“I do,” Regulus protested. “But it doesn’t take courage to kill innocent -”

“Courage?” She pulled a face. “I don’t care for courage – what matters is conviction. And yours seems to be wavering.”

“But what's the point?” he demanded. “There’s no reason to – no point in senseless murder.”

The girl’s gaze was still locked on his, but she had pushed her little brother behind her again. He wondered if she was going to run, but she seemed glued in place, unable to process what was happening.

“The point,” Bellatrix replied, lifting her wand almost lazily, “is that we can” – two bursts of green shot from the end of her wand – “and no one can stop us."

The two bodies, the largest of which was barely above Regulus’ hip height, fell to the ground like deflated balloons.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Regulus shouted, feeling tears brim at the corners of his eyes. “This isn’t right – killing our enemies is one thing, but children?”

“Our orders were to kill the whole family,” Rodolphus Lestrange said evenly.

“And is that all we do?” Regulus snapped. “We just follow the Dark Lord’s orders whether we agree with them or not?”

“You dare to speak against the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix snarled.

"If this is what he wants – killing indiscriminately – torture – what makes you think we won't be next? He doesn't care about any of us; all he wants is to make himself stronger. He won't stop at muggleborns."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Bellatrix said, her tone dangerous. "I thought you were better than this Regulus, but maybe you are too childish to be have been given the mark afterall."

“I’m not a child," Regulus argued. "I notice more than you think. And I know what he's trying to do – I know about the horcruxes."

“You will not speak another word of this,” she hissed. She crossed the room almost impossibly fast, her wand pointing towards his throat. “I will gladly blast another cousin from the family tree if I hear another word of this from you. Do not question the Dark Lord if you know that's good for you. If you want to live, you will be loyal.”

Regulus nodded jerkily. He silenced himself and followed the other Death Eaters out of the building, the six of them moving like dark omens through the destroyed doorway before disapparating. But the bodies of those two children were imprinted on his mind.

When he'd first heard of Voldemort, it was a name whispered amongst older students and family members as though they were talking of a deity. The reality was that the Dark Lord was cruel. He relied on a current of fear to keep his followers from questioning him – and disposed of them if he deemed them weak. Regulus didn't see himself as weak, but he didn't see himself as like Bellatrix either.

He couldn't carry on like this.

 


	10. R.A.B

_**July 1976** _

_Regulus was lying in bed, his head buried beneath the blankets despite the warm summer sunshine that was creeping around the edge of his curtains, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. It was late morning, and Regulus had been awake for hours, listening to the sound of raised voices from downstairs._

_The previous evening, Regulus had watched his brother drag his school trunk down the stairs, screaming at his mother as she took out her wand and set fire to his portrait on the family tree. Sirius had left, slamming the door with a resounding thud that left them all in a momentary silence. Then there was more shouting, cruel laughter from his cousins and a furious rage from his mother that Regulus quickly excused himself to avoid._

_He felt at odds with the situation, in many ways unsurprised by Sirius' departure but still filled with a dull ache of loss. It was stupid, he thought sullenly, as he listened to the sound of footsteps echoing up the stairs. Sirius was stupid. Why did he always have to act out against everything their parents said? Family was what mattered, but ever since Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, he seemed to have abandoned theirs._

_Regulus raised his head from his pillow as he heard the door to the room next to his – Sirius' room – burst open. The voices of his mother and father rang through the thin walls between the two rooms, accompanied by regular crashes and bangs. Cautiously, Regulus got out of bed, walking bare foot towards his own bedroom door. He pulled it open, stepping out into the surprisingly cold corridor and turning towards his brother's bedroom. Walburga was standing in the middle of it, wand pointed at the chest of draws by Sirius' bed, while his father stood in the doorway, beside Kreacher, who was holding open a rubbish bag._

_"What are you doing?" Regulus asked, alarmed, as he watched several of his brother's belongings float across the room._

_"Purging this house of any of your brother's delusions," Walburga stated._

_As she said it, her gaze turned to the picture of the motorbike that was stuck to the wall on her right. She pointed at it, muttering several spells, but it maintained Sirius' stubbornness and refused to budge._

_Regulus was surprised that his mother didn't blast a hole in the wall._

_"Look at all this muggle rubbish," she said, turning to her husband. In one hand she was holding a cube full of brightly coloured squares that Regulus had never seen before. In the other was a hand-sized device that Regulus immediately recognised._

_He felt his heart drop._

_"What on earth is that?" his father asked, taking the device from Walburga._

_He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie, frowning in bewilderment._

_The answering static sound however, didn't come from Sirius' room at all._

_Both of his parents turned to Regulus._

_"Regulus," his mother said in a voice that sounded calm but was edged with a dangerous coldness. "What is that sound, and why is it coming from your bedroom?"_

_"Er," Regulus said. He glanced down at the floor, looking at the scuffing that had marked the wood after all the times that Sirius had carelessly flung the door open. "They're walkie-talkies. They... Sirius gave one to me."_

_"Fetch it," his mother ordered._

_Solemnly, Regulus went back to his room, digging the walkie-talkie out from the back of his cupboard. Sirius had given it to him a few summers ago, and they had spent several nights entertaining themselves with them, pretending they were spies, or pirates, and at other times just being brothers, whispering in the dark._

_He took the walkie-talkie back to his mother, who pointed sternly to the rubbish bag Kreacher was holding._

_"But -" Regulus said, looking down at the device in his hand. Despite the fact that it would be useless without Sirius on the other end, he was reluctant to part from it. "It doesn't even work, couldn't I just -"_

_"Get rid of it Regulus," his mother interrupted. "Or I will."_

_He turned to Kreacher, who smiled at him weakly, but didn't say anything._

_He dropped the walkie-talkie into the bag, watching it smash into the one that his parents had already disposed of. Walburga and Orion nodded, satisfied, and Kreacher closed the bag._

_Several hours later Regulus was back in his room, preferring to keep to himself than talk to either of his parents. He was halfway through a book about dragons when there was a soft knock at the door, and Kreacher slipped into the room, looking around warily._

_"Master Regulus," the house elf said, bowing slightly._

_"Kreacher," Regulus said, smiling. He was happy to see the elf: currently the only presence in the house that he wasn't averse to._

_He was carrying a tea towel carefully in his hands, and as he crossed the room, climbing onto the bed beside Regulus, he said, "Mistress told Kreacher to put the estranged Master's things somewhere she would never have to look at them again."_

_Regulus sighed._

_"But," Kreacher pressed on, "Kreacher thought that, if Master Regulus was careful, there is no reason for her to see this again."_

_Kreacher unfurled the tea towel and there, in his outstretched hands, was Regulus' walkie-talkie._

_"You saved this for me?" Regulus asked, shocked. "But isn't that against the rules? Won't you have to -"_

_"That is not of Master Regulus' concern," Kreacher said. Once again, he held his hands out towards Regulus, who took the walkie-talkie._

_"Thank you."_

_Kreacher nodded, hopping down from the bed. "Young Master is kind," he said, "Kreacher wishes only to be loyal."_

_"You are," Regulus told him, a growing warmth for the house elf washing over him. "You're a good friend, Kreacher."_

* * *

 

 

**21st November 1979**

Regulus was pacing. The hour was late, well past midnight, and his mother had long since gone to bed, so the house was silent except for his footsteps. It had been almost three hours since Kreacher had left 12 Grimmauld Place, since he had handed over his house elf to Voldemort. Regulus had told Kreacher that it was an honour to serve The Dark Lord, but as the night went on he grew less and less sure that his words had been true. He wished he'd had the courage to ask what Voldemort needed a house elf for, to ensure that Kreacher would come back alive. Regulus had lost his brother and then his father, and he wasn't sure he could bear to lose Kreacher too - especially knowing he could have prevented it.

It was a relief when Regulus heard a small _pop_ and turned to see Kreacher standing behind him. But his relief evaporated a moment later when he took in Kreacher's appearance. The house elf was dripping wet, droplets of water falling from his body onto the floor, making a mess that Kreacher would normally have cleaned up in an instant. But Kreacher seemed barely aware of his surroundings, shaking violently and staring straight in front of him, the huge blue orbs of his eyes seeming even wider than usual.

"Kreacher?" Regulus said. The house elf's gaze fell upon Regulus and some of the fear left his expression. "Hold on," Regulus added, rushing out of the room and returning with a towel, which he wrapped around Kreacher's shoulders. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He led Kreacher towards a chair, and after a few moments he stopped shaking.

"Master told Kreacher to come home," he said in croaky voice.

"Yes," Regulus said gently, "and you followed my orders perfectly. But Kreacher, what did the Dark Lord need you to do?"

Kreacher shuddered. "The D-Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave. There was a lake and a b-boat."

"What happened?" Regulus asked, frowning.

"A p-potion. The Dark Lord told Kreacher to drink it, and Kreacher saw terrible things." He clutched his stomach. "Kreacher's insides burnt like fire. It was fear like he had never felt before. Kreacher wanted to stop, but the Dark Lord only laughed and made him drink more."

Regulus felt rage well up inside him, and shame, too. He had given Kreacher to the Dark Lord, had allowed his loyal elf to be taken away, and from the sounds of it the Dark Lord had tortured him – and laughed while he did it.

"What potion, Kreacher?" he asked. "Why did he need you to drink it?"

"A locket, Master," Kreacher replied hoarsely. "After Kreacher drank, the Dark Lord placed a locket in the basin and re-filled it with potion. Then the Dark Lord left Kreacher, and Kreacher cried for Master Regulus but he was all alone. Kreacher needed water so he - he-"

Regulus balled his hands into fists to stop them trembling. He didn't think he wanted to hear the rest of Kreacher's story, but he encouraged him to go on.

"Kreacher drank from the lake – a dark lake, black as night – and hands reached up – dead hands grabbed Kreacher and d-dragged him down."

"Inferi?" Regulus said, finding himself whispering.

"The D-Dark Lord does not know elf magic," Kreacher said. "He didn't know that Kreacher could apparate out of the cave."

"He left you to die." Regulus turned away, running a hand through his hair. Bitterly, he said, "I suppose the Dark Lord thinks house elves are expendable."

"Master?" Kreacher said, breaking Regulus out of his thoughts. "The Dark Lord told Kreacher the locket was called a – a horcrux."

Regulus' eyes widened. "So that's it. That's where he has hidden his soul."

"What does this mean, Master?"

"Never mind, Kreacher," Regulus said quickly. "You should rest, now. You've done very well."

Kreacher nodded and unsteadily made his way to the nest where he slept. But Regulus had no intention of sleeping, not with what he now knew. The answer to Kreacher's question hung at the front of Regulus' mind.

_It means the Dark Lord can be defeated._

* * *

 

 

_**August, 1972** _

_Regulus was sitting on a tall stone wall, waiting for his older brother to return from the muggle shop he'd ventured to in search of food._

_It was late summer, and their parents had told them to stay in the house while they were away, but Sirius was adamant that staying the house was far too boring, and so they'd happily rushed outside at the first opportunity. They wandered around for a little while, running through the nearby park before traipsing through the streets of London._

_Regulus swung his legs whimsically as he watched the door to the shop across the street, and sure enough his brother reappeared a few minutes later, carrying two paper bags full of chips, which Regulus gratefully tucked into._

_"Do they have chips at Hogwarts?" he asked, glancing up at his brother. "Or is it all healthy, boring food like mother makes?"_

_"There's all sorts," Sirius grinned, "the tables are the length of a quidditch pitch, filled with all the food you can imagine."_

_"So, chips?"_

_"Definitely chips," Sirius laughed._

_The two of them sat in companionable silence for a moment while they ate, watching the muggles around them go about their daily lives._

_"Why do you like muggles?" Regulus felt compelled to ask. "Mother says that you have bad friends, who teach you things that you shouldn't believe in."_

_"You shouldn't listen to mother so much," Sirius frowned. "Muggles are just people, like us."_

_"Hmm," Regulus mused. He wasn't sure whether to believe Sirius or not, but he wasn't willing to push the subject when they were spending rare time away from the house without either of their parents there to berate them._

_"Have you learnt any cool spells at Hogwarts?" he asked instead._

_"Loads," Sirius confirmed. "But you know I'm not allowed to show you outside of school."_

_"That's not fair," Regulus whined._

_"I could show you something else cool though," Sirius smiled. He jumped down from the wall, glancing up and down the street before turning back to Regulus._

_"James and I have been trying to learn muggle tricks, how to pick locks and stuff like that." He paused, waiting until a muggle man with a large moustache had passed them. "Watch this."_

_Regulus watched as he effortlessly fell into step behind the man. Silently, and with what seemed to Regulus impossible speed, he reached into the man's pocket, pulling out his wallet._

_"You stole it!" Reuglus whispered when Sirius jogged back over to him._

_"Yep," Sirius grinned. He flicked open the wallet and held it up to Regulus. Inside there was a picture of an older women with grey hair and a wrinkled smile._

_"Is that a picture of his mother?" Sirius laughed. "What a loser."_

_"Maybe it's his wife."_

_"That's even worse."_

_Raising his voice, Sirius shouted, "Excuse me Sir," in what Regulus recognised as a purposefully sweet tone of voice._

_The man turned around, and Sirius ran up to him, handing back the wallet._

_When he returned, he shrugged. "It's not like we need the money."_

_Regulus laughed again, grinning at his brother's antics. Sirius always seemed to know lots about everything, and Regulus was eager to learn more too._

_"Can I try?"_

_"Sure," Sirius said. He bent down beside Regulus. "Just be quick and quiet. Do what I did."_

_Nodding determinedly, Regulus waited until another man – this one with a much smaller moustache but a rather larger stomach – passed by them._

_Cautiously he crept after the man, managing not to draw any attention to himself as he stepped closer, reaching out to the pocket where he could see the thin outline of a wallet._

_He tried to grab the edge of it, but as soon as his fingers clasped around the leather the man let out a startled grunt and turned around._

_His and Regulus' eyes met for the briefest of moments, before he bellowed "YOU LITTLE -"_

_The next thing Regulus knew, Sirius was pulling him backwards, laughing and shouting at him to run._

_Turning on his heel, Reuglus did as he was told, running and laughing as the muggle man shouted after them, waving his fist comically. He and Sirius rounded a corner side by side, running for two more streets before they finally came to a stop, leaning against the wall of a pebble-dashed house at the end of the street. The small stones dug sharply into Regulus arm as he collapsed against them, but he was bursting with too much energy to even notice._

_"Nice try little bro," Sirius laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll get it next time."_

* * *

 

**29** **th** **November 1979**

Regulus had barely left Grimmauld Place since the night Voldemort had taken Kreacher to the cave. He had told no one what had happened, merely telling his mother that Kreacher had returned late at night and needed time to rest. On his orders, Kreacher had stayed hidden, so that the Dark Lord would not know he had survived. He alone bore the secret of the Dark Lord's horcrux, a seed planted in his chest that seemed to grow every day, an idea sprouting inside him that he couldn't seem to ignore.

All the things Regulus had seen – the things he had done – were because of Voldemort. His influence had caused a schism in the Black family, separating Regulus from his brother and Bellatrix and Narcissa from their sister Andromeda. Evan Rosier, Regulus' oldest friend, had died in his service and the Dark Lord barely seemed to notice, let alone care. And even months after it had happened, every time Regulus closed his eyes he saw the Bones family dead upon the floor, with those two small children who died needlessly. He felt like he hadn't had a full night's sleep since that terrible evening.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that a knock at the door startled him. His mother was out and Kreacher was hidden upstairs, so the house had been completely silent – and it was a silence that was hard to shake off. As he opened the door, he saw Snape on the doorstep and frowned. The two of them did not know each other well; they had been two years apart at Hogwarts, and for many years he had mostly known of Snape through Sirius' hatred of him. Even in his fourth and fifth years, when Snape and Regulus had shared several friends – if they could really be called friends – and they had got to know one another, they had certainly never been close. His appearance was unexpected, and Regulus let him into the house reluctantly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, making no effort to be tactful.

"The Dark Lord sent me. He needs all of our forces to take down a family of blood traitors."

Regulus swallowed, the faces of the Bones family floating to the front of his mind. "To kill them?"

Snape frowned. "Obviously."

"I don't think – surely there are other ways to deal with them."

"The Dark Lord's orders were very clear, Regulus." When Regulus didn't reply, Snape continued, "It will be a difficult battle, so prepare yourself. I'll be using this." He took a small bottle filled with golden liquid from the pocket of his robes. "Felix felicis. I won this years ago, at Hogwarts, and I'd almost forgotten I had it. With luck on my side, we can be certain of a victory."

"There has to be another way," Regulus said. "Blood traitors are still pure bloods. Surely there's no need to kill them."

"Working with the Order of the Phoenix is enough of a reason."

Regulus sighed. "Severus, don't you ever think that maybe we're on the wrong side? Everyone treats Slytherins as though we're evil from the moment the sorting hat touches our heads, but it doesn't have to be that way." Urgently, he continued, "You weren't always like this – you were friends with that muggleborn girl, I remember that. Don't you ever have doubts?"

Snape's expression was unreadable. Slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully, he said, "You can't think that way. We've made our choice, and we're on the winning side. Soon the whole world will see things our way."

"Power isn't everything." Regulus began to say more and then stopped himself. Instead, he merely said, "I'm not coming with you. I'm sorry."

"Be careful, Black," Snape replied. "You know what happens to those who betray the Dark Lord. Even your family can't protect you if you turn against him."

"I know."

Snape turned to leave, and Regulus caught a glimpse of the golden liquid nestled in his pocket. Without really thinking about it, Regulus used the trick Sirius had taught him so many years ago, and a moment later the bottle was in his hand, safely hidden in his fist.

As he closed the door behind Snape, his gaze fell upon the family insignia etched above the door frame. _Toujours pur._ Always pure. He thought of all that his parents had taught him, of the terrible things Bellatrix had pushed him to do, and he realised it was a long time since blood purity had mattered to him. He imagined his brother's laughing face the first time Regulus had tried and failed to pick a muggle man's pocket, and he wished Sirius was there to give him courage once more.

Opening his hand to look at the bottle resting on his palm, he finally decided what he needed to do. And he was going to need all the luck he could get.

* * *

 

**30** **th** **November 1979**

It was done. With Kreacher's help, and a little extra luck, Regulus had found the cave where the Dark Lord's horcrux was hidden, and together they had crossed the lake of black water. Kreacher was nervous, shooting worried glances at the lake as Regulus looked into the basin of potion. At the bottom, just as Kreacher had told him, was a heavy-looking locket. With a trembling hand, he reached towards it, but just as he expected his hand couldn't pass through the liquid.

"Okay, Kreacher," he said, looking at the house elf in the light of his wand. "It's time."

"Must Kreacher drink the potion again, Master Regulus?" he asked, his voice wavering.

With a jolt of surprise, Regulus realised he hadn't explained his plan to Kreacher.

"No, Kreacher," he said softly, and the elf looked relieved. But Kreacher's expression changed to horror when Regulus said, "I'm the one who's going to drink it."

"No, Master!" Kreacher exclaimed, trying to put his small body between Regulus and the basin. "Master must not drink it – Master will see such terrible things – Kreacher must drink instead."

"No." Regulus gently pulled him away from the basin. "Listen to me, Kreacher. I need you to do this for me – it's the most important thing I've ever asked of you. You must force me to drink all of that potion, no matter what I say, and then you'll replace the locket in the basin with this one." He placed the fake locket into Kreacher's palm. "Then you must go home and destroy the locket – whatever it takes, it must be destroyed."

Kreacher was shaking his head, his ears flopping from side to side. "Master, no, please don't make Kreacher do it – Master will die!"

Regulus felt tears on his cheeks. "I know," he said in as steady a voice as he could manage. "But you must survive – you have to go home and take care of mother. And you can't tell anyone what happened, alright? Not even mother. No one can ever know."

Kreacher looked at Regulus, his eyes swimming with tears. "Master Regulus is very brave," he said.

Regulus wondered if that was true. If people would consider him brave if they ever discovered his sacrifice. He wondered what his mother would say, and whether his brother would think he'd finally chosen the right path.

With the image of both their faces held in his mind, he summoned a cup and began to drink.


	11. Ready or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the lateness! Our lives have been pretty hectic lately, but we will definitely finish writing this fic I promise!!

**3 rd December 1979**

Lily had been horrendously busy for the past few weeks. Between order meetings, doing some recon work for Moody, and her long shifts at the hospital, she had barely had any time at all to concentrate on herself. Despite this, she had felt fine, it a little worn out, so it came as quite a shock when she found herself running out of a patient’s room early on Wednesday morning, before retching into the nearest toilet.

Lily sighed, pushing her hair back out of her face and standing up shakily. She flushed the toilet and went to wash her hands, staring at her flushed reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was very rarely sick, especially with no other symptoms to speak of – that last time had been when she and James had got food poisoning and had spent an unfortunate two days puking and rolling around in bed, feeling sorry for themselves. Lily shook her head at the memory, which is of course, when I thought struck her. Mentally working out what time of month it was, it was with a wave of fear that she realised she couldn't remember when she'd had her last period.

"No," Lily said, almost laughing at the idea. She couldn't be pregnant. She and James had barely had time to be intimate lately; although there had certainly been a few welcomed occasions when they'd managed to forget about their jobs and the war and snatch a brief pocket of time together. But they'd always been careful, and had talked about having children in the future – _far_ in the future. Not now.

Blinking at her reflection, Lily glanced down at her wand. She was a healer, of course, and was more than familiar with the spell she could perform to prove whether or not she was pregnant. It was really quite simple. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say the incantation. Because she couldn't be pregnant. The very reason she and James had been so busy in the last few months was exactly why they shouldn't bring a child into the world - they were in the middle of a war. They had come face-to-face with Voldemort for goodness sake. Lily couldn't imagine the terror of having a child at a time when they were losing friends, and hearing of more and more attacks every week.

She looked down blankly at her wand, wondering what to do, wondering if this was even possible, but was broken out of her revere by the bathroom door swinging open. Lily hastily shoved her wand back into her pocket, turning around to stare at the young healer who had come to check on her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "You ran out of there pretty quick."

"Must have had bad eggs for breakfast," Lily lied, attempting a smile.

She took a breath, composing herself, and followed her colleague back out into the ward. 

It wasn't until several hours later, when her long shift was finally over, that Lily found herself hovering outside a muggle pharmacy. Only a month ago she had heard about Petunia's pregnancy, and the thought had led her here. She stepped inside, seeking out the same muggle pregnancy tests that her sister would have used. For some reason, it made her breath a little easier. There was no magic about these tests, no spells or complicated muttering, no flashes and bangs. All she had to do was pee on a stick. And she could do it whenever she liked. Maybe she wouldn't have to use it at all.

She paid for the pregnancy test and headed home to be greeted only by their cat, Peanut. With James still at work and nothing to do for once, it was strangely quiet, and Lily wasn't sure if the twisting feeling in her stomach was because of nerves, or something else entirely. She attempted to busy herself with cleaning up the kitchen, then picked up a book and flicked through it, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything, and the pull to retrieve the pregnancy test from her bag became stronger the longer she tried to distract herself.

"Okay," she said to Peanut, who blinked at her lazily, and wrapped around her ankles. "It'll be fine. Let's do it."

* * *

When James got home from the Aurors’ office each day, Lily always gave him the same look. No matter how late it was, how long a day she'd had, or how worried she was, Lily always had a smile for her husband.

So when James came home to find Lily sitting on the edge of the sofa, her hands curled tightly together in her lap and her forehead wrinkled with worry, he felt a wave of fear rush through him, clamping his chest tightly.

"Lily?" he said, hurrying to her side and putting an arm around her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

It took a long moment for Lily to turn her head towards him, and a number of possibilities raced around his mind. Was someone dead? Injured? Had more muggles been attacked by Death Eaters? Surely they had endured enough already - surely the universe could not have dealt them another blow.

When Lily's eyes met his, tears welled up and made glistening streaks on her cheeks. "I'm pregnant, James."

The pressure in his chest seemed to dissipate. "You're - ? But Lily, that's amazing!" He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, laughing with relief and joy. "We're having a baby! That's good news, isn't it?"

James reached out and gently laid a hand on Lily's stomach, feeling the ever so slight bulge. "We're having a baby," he said again, softly and with wonderment.

"James," Lily said, pulling away from him. "How can you be smiling? This is - " She paused as though searching for the words. "It's terrifying. With everything going on, how are we supposed to raise a child? It's not safe, and we're not ready."

James felt his smile fade as the weight of this realisation fell upon him. It wasn't safe - not for them, and certainly not for a baby. It was only a few days ago that the Bones family had been killed, their two young children included. If Death Eaters came for them, their baby would not be spared. Voldemort knew nothing of mercy.

He sat back down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He wondered what his own parents felt like when they realised his mother was pregnant. He wished they were still here for him to talk to - so that he could ask them for the advice and support they were always so willing to give. They had always made it seem like they were so prepared, so ready to bring him into the world. They had made parenting seem so easy. But if the past year had taught James anything, it was that nothing in this world was easy.

Lily sat down beside him and took his hand. "I want to keep it," she said softly. "I know I could - could terminate the pregnancy. I've done the spell for people before. But even though I'm so scared of what could happen to our baby, I'm more scared of the thought of giving it up before it's even had the chance to see the world."

"That's that then," James said, as firmly as he could. "We're doing this. We'll find a way to keep our child safe - whatever it takes."

"We'll be a family," Lily said, finally smiling despite the tears still flooding her eyes.

"So who should we tell first?" he asked, smiling too. "Your mum?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. "I don't know if I can deal with that just yet. Sirius and Remus? And Peter, afterwards."

James grinned. "Can we go there now? And - if it's okay - I mean, it's up to you but - can Sirius be - well -"

"Godfather?" Lily suggested. "Who else would it be?"

* * *

After composing themselves with cups of tea and talking a little more about how they were going to handle the pregnancy, they apparated to Sirius and Remus' flat, appearing on the dark street as fine rain began to fall from the sky. Lily clutched her stomach and said, "Ugh, I was wondering why I've felt so much nausea after apparating for the past couple of weeks. Now I guess I know."

"You can take my broomstick to work, if you want," James offered, and Lily glared at him.

"You're not getting me on that broom no matter how hard you try, James Potter," she replied. "I don't care if it's the latest model."

"Then I guess we'll have to stock up on floo powder."

They stood there for another minute, their shoulders getting damp from the rain, working up the courage to go inside. It wasn't that they weren't eager to tell their friends - James was excited to see the look on Sirius' face when he told him. But telling other people would make it seem so much more real.

"We'd better go in," Lily finally said, and wordlessly they linked their hands and walked up the stairs. James lifted his free hand and knocked firmly on the door.

Remus opened it almost at once, surprise lighting up his face when he saw them. "Hey, I thought you'd be Sirius - he never remembers his key."

"He's not here?"

"No, he went to the cinema - he tried to make me go with him but I refuse to indulge his bad taste in media."

Though they all smiled, it must not have been entirely convincing, because Remus asked, "Is everything alright?"

James and Lily exchanged a look. "Yes," James said. "Everything's great - wonderful, in fact."

"Okay..." Remus said, drawing the word out.

"James, you should go and find Sirius," Lily said. "I'll tell Remus, okay?"

As Remus looked at them in bewilderment, James hesitated, wanting to stay with Lily but also desperate to tell his best friend the biggest news he'd ever delivered. "Alright," he finally agreed, giving Lily a quick kiss. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

Sirius was having a swell time. His lap was laden with popcorn, he had a large fizzy drink to his left and he was watching a war movie. Going into the cinema, he wasn't exactly sure what he was letting himself in for, just that Remus had said there was already enough war in their lives without watching a fictional one too. But having never had the chance to go as a child, the big screens and grimy majesty of the cinema hadn't quite worn off on Sirius yet. Remus had been almost offended the time he'd try to have a bit of fun in the back row and Sirius had refused, preferring to concentrate on the giant shark causing terror onscreen, despite Remus' insistence that it was shite compared to its predecessor. The cinema was just too interesting.

He shovelled another handful of popcorn into his mouth, and his attention was caught by something behind him. It was dark in the cinema, but he could see the outline of someone rushing down the aisle towards the front of the theatre, a distressed steward close behind them.

 _"That's my dream; that's my nightmare."_ Sirius heard through the speakers as he watched the figure come closer.

_"Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving."_

"Sirius!"

The figure stopped right at the edge of Sirius' row, and although his face was still cast in shadows, his voice was easily distinguishable. "James?"

"Sir, I really must insist -" said the poor steward, who had finally caught up to James, and was tentatively trying to pull him away.

"I need to talk to you!" James persisted, even as he allowed himself to be led back up the aisle. "I have news!"

Sirius was immediately out of his seat, his forgotten popcorn scattering across the floor as it fell from his lap.

"Wait," he said hastily, following James and the steward out of the room. They emerged into the bright foyer and Sirius blinked at the sudden light. "What's going on?" he asked James, who was grinning despite the tiredness and worry behind his eyes.

The steward frowned at them, but walked away, muttering curses under his breath.

James didn't seem to care.

"Come here."

He grabbed Sirius by the arm and led him towards the cinema’s exit.

"Spit it out why don't you," Sirius insisted, "I paid a galleon for that film."

"I'm having a baby!" James announced, his hands reaching out to grab Sirius' arms. "I mean - Lily. Lily's pregnant. We're having a baby. A baby," he repeated, seeming astonished at his own words.

"Woah," Sirius replied, taken aback by the news. "Since when?"

"Lily just found out!" He hesitated. "It's kind of worrying because of the war but-"

"It'll be fine," Sirius said defiantly, immediately feeling a swell of protectiveness towards his best friends' unborn baby. There was a hint of worry edging his words, but he didn't doubt them. "That will be one lucky kid. He'll have the whole order looking out for him."

"Or her," James grinned. "Oh god, what if it's a girl? I don't know how girls work."

"You married one," Sirius pointed out. "You'll figure it out."

James nodded, running his hands through his hair in a way that was so familiar that Sirius couldn't help but laugh at him. "You'll be a good dad," he said. The surprise at the news doing nothing to diminish the honesty of his statement.

"And you'll be godfather." James said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"As if it could be anyone else.”

Sirius stared at him. "I - I'd love to," he stammered. "Oh Merlin, does this mean I'm having a kid too?"

"It's okay," James laughed. He was still holding on to Sirius, and his excitement was infectious. "You and Moony can be the cool uncles."

"I can do that," Sirius said. He looked away from James for a moment as he realised that people were starting to flood out of another film, filling the doorway where they stood and letting in the cold night air. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here - you have a pregnant wife waiting for you, and I know better than to incur Lily's wrath."

"A wise man," James grinned as he followed Sirius out of the cinema. "Let's go."

* * *

Silence fell upon the flat when James apparated away, and Lily felt Remus’ curious gaze upon her. It seemed like there should be a more grandiose setting for her to give such enormous news, but Remus and Sirius’ flat looked the same as ever when she stepped inside, with empty mugs piled on every surface and their record player on a low volume in the background.

“Remus,” she said, but she felt a wave of panic take her breath away as though grasping her in a chokehold. She unconsciously held a hand to her stomach, and she saw Remus’ eyes widen.

“Lily, are you pregnant?”

Unable to speak, she just nodded, and Remus pulled her into a hug as she started to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder, “I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“It’s okay, I get like that after full moons – the transformation screws up all your hormones. Though I think that’s probably the only similarity between lycanthropy and pregnancy.”

She laughed as she pulled away. “I don’t know – I’ve seen a lot of heavily pregnant people and they’re pretty fearsome.”

“You’re pretty fearsome already,” Remus said fondly. More seriously, he added, “And you’ll be a great mother, Lily. You really will.”

Lily looked down at her stomach again. “I’m about five weeks along. I’ve been trying to remember what that means – I think it’s when the heart begins to form. Pretty soon this baby will have a heartbeat.”

“That’s incredible,” Remus said.

“Yeah,” Lily replied. “I suppose it is.”

* * *

**6 th December 1979**

As tended to happen at Order of the Phoenix meetings, they were all waiting for a report from Dumbledore, who was late.

They were sitting around the large dining table in Emmeline's house, listening to the Prewetts talk animatedly about the fact that they'd just returned from visiting their sister, Molly.

"Fred and George are really starting to talk now," Fabian grinned, "they're going to be troublemakers, I can see it coming."

"They're already giving their brothers a run for their money," Gideon agreed, curling his fingers around Marlene's hand, which was placed beneath his on the table. "I'm surprised they didn't scare you off," he grinned.

"Kids are not my domain," Marlene agreed, shrugging. "But they seemed far more interested in Benjy than me anyway."

"My little sister was always quite the handful," Benjy grinned, "so I'm used to it." Lily noticed that as he spoke, Fabian wrapped an arm around the back of his chair, resting his hand affectionately on his shoulder.

Had they always been that obvious? she wondered idly. She had seen pictures of them dancing together at her and James' wedding but other than that, had been fairly quiet about whatever was going on between the two of them.

"I don't know how Molly and Arthur do it though," Fabian continued. "That's five kids now, and at a time like this..."

There were murmurs of agreement from around the table, and Lily felt immediately uncomfortable. James took her hand under the table, while Remus, Sirius and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, shooting her worried glances.

Lily merely looked down at the table, trying to block out the talk of babies. She and James had agreed that they should tell the rest of the order about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but she was worried about being side-lined, and was determined not to become useless. Being stuck in the house while her friends were out fighting a war would drive her crazy. Especially if something happened to any of them.

She was just leaning over to James, about to suggest that maybe they should keep news of the baby to themselves for now, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Lily was surprised to look over and see Marlene standing beside her, a gentle smile on her face. "Come to the bathroom with me," she said purposefully.

"Um."

"Come on," she insisted.

"Where are you two off to?" Gideon asked when Lily stood up to follow Marlene.

"Women problems," she told her boyfriend firmly. "Nothing that you boys would want to know about."

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, as she followed Marlene up Emmeline's large staircase and into the bathroom. "Is it something you'd be better coming to the hospital about?"

Marlene perched on the edge of the bath, and regarded Lily with a knowing look. "Are you pregnant?"

"What?" Lily gasped, "How do you - "

"It's pretty obvious to anyone who isn't an oblivious man," Marlene shrugged. "You've seemed off this last week or so: quiet, feeling queasy, holding your stomach..."

Lily sighed, sitting down next to Marlene.

"I was going to tell everyone, but -”

"But you don't want them to treat you like a time bomb?" Marlene interrupted. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Exactly," Lily nodded. "I know what we do is dangerous but how can I spend nine months doing nothing?"

"It won't be an issue," Marlene said with certainty. "I know we've never been the best of friends, but I like having you around. If anyone has a problem with it then they'll have to go through me."

Lily smiled, and Marlene hesitantly took her hand, squeezing it before quickly letting go.

"So, whenever you want to let everyone know there's going to be another Potter on the cards, I'll make sure they all behave. I'm sure McGonagall at least will have an interesting reaction."

"True." Lily smiled. "Shall I just get it out of the way?"

"There's that Gryffindor bravery coming through," Marlene grinned. "If you're ready, go for it."

They headed back downstairs just as Dumbledore finally arrived, and before he could start telling them about the information he'd recovered, Lily nodded at James, who stood up as she cleared her throat, looking anxious.

"Everyone," he said loudly, causing a hush to fall over the room. "Lily and I actually have an announcement to make."

Everyone turned towards them, and without preamble Lily took a deep breath and said, "I'm pregnant. We know it's not the best time, but I intend to keep working and stay in the order."

"That's wonderful!"

The comment came from Alice, who was on her feet in an instance, wrapping her arms around Lily. "Maybe I'll get pregnant soon too and we can be maternity buddies!"

Lily let Alice hug her tightly, relief washing over her. "Maybe," she agreed, smiling at her friend. "I'd like that."

"Are you - are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Meaning what, Dearborn?" James asked defensively.

Caradoc had spoken from the other end of the table, and was holding up his hands in a manner that suggested he didn't want to start an argument. "Just that - it's dangerous. If you get into a fight while you're pregnant you could..."

"Die?" Dorcas Meadows asked bluntly. "That's the same whether she's pregnant or not, idiot."

"But there's the baby..." Gideon said uncertainly, and Marlene gave him a dangerous look.

"This is James and Lily's decision," Moody interjected loudly, "you should all respect their choice."

"I quite agree," McGonagall said. She was nearest to James, and squeezed his shoulder supportively. "Congratulations, both of you."

"Thanks Professor," James said. "Bet you never thought you'd see me become a dad."

"I'm quite used to your surprises by now, Potter," she smiled. "And I must say that this is one of the nicer ones. I don't doubt you'll be excellent parents."


	12. Broken Promises

**10 th January 1980**

It was just gone 9am on a Tuesday morning when Sirius heard a repetitive, aggressive rapping at his front door.

He'd just stepped out of the shower, and hurriedly pulled on some clothes before rushing down the hallway, muttering "alright, alright," under his breath as he went. He hoped it wasn't Mrs. Elliott from downstairs again. No matter how many silencing charms he and Remus cast on the flat, she remained convinced that she could hear them stomping around at all hours.

Pulling his wet hair back out of his face, Sirius pulled the door open.

For a moment, he regarded the woman on the other side of the doorframe blankly. Then he attempted to close the door again.

The woman however, was clearly unsurprised by this reaction, and stuck a single heeled shoe in the door before it could close in her face. Then she raised her wand, and forcefully pushed the door fully open.

"What do you want?" Sirius demanded, unwilling to allow his mother entrance to his home.

"Where is he?" Walburga demanded, regarding her son with open hostility.

"Who?" he asked, before letting out a huff of annoyance at his own curiosity. "Actually, I don't want to know. Get the hell out of my building."

"Where is Regulus?" His mother continued, peering around Sirius' body and into the hallway. "Is he here?"

"The last time I saw brother dearest he tried to hex me, so surprisingly I'm not hiding him in my flat," Sirius said flatly. "So you can leave."

He once again attempted to close the door.

"Sirius!" Walburga snapped, pushing her hand firmly against the door. "I - Merlin knows I wouldn't be here if I had any other options."

Sirius hesitated. He couldn't remember ever seeing his mother this desperate before. He had a strong feeling that, were it coming from anyone else, she would deem her very behaviour uncouth.

"I told you," he relented. "I haven't seen him."

"No one has," she said sharply. "He hasn't been home in months - not even for Christmas."

She looked genuinely worried, and Sirius felt a prickle of panic wash over him.

"If you - if you're lying to me," Walburga threatened, "if you see him..."

"I'll tell him to stay well clear of you," Sirius said bitterly, his panic quickly turning to anger as he looked at the woman whom he had barely spoken to in the four years since he had left home for good. "Whose fault do you think this is? Who encouraged him to run off and become a death eater?"

"Don't you dare-"

"He could be dead!" Sirius spat, the realisation fueling him with a new burst of fury. "Excellent parenting mother. One of your sons hates you and the other is probably rotting in-"

The rest of his sentence was lost with the force of the slap across his face causing him to bite down painfully on his tongue.

He automatically stepped backwards, away from the door.

"Get out," he said then, drawing his wand and pointing it at his mother. "Before I make you."

Walburga openly laughed, shaking her head and giving him a last, lingering look of disdain before turning and striding away.

Sirius reached up to touch his stinging cheek. It felt hot against his fingers.

He finally closed the door and wandered into the living room, collapsing into the chair nearest the door.

Regulus was missing. In the back of his mind, he'd know it was only a matter of time before something happened to him. He'd said as much to Regulus himself.

It didn't make the truth any more painful, or stop Sirius' mind from racing through the myriad of awful fates that could be waiting for his little brother, or that may have already found him.

* * *

**_December 1971_ **

_Sirius had barely left his room since coming back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas. Since leaving for Hogwarts, this house no longer felt like a home to him, and his parents certainly hadn’t made him feel welcome. He had written them a letter on his very first night at Hogwarts, despite being warm and sleepy from the journey and full to bursting from the feast, but he had never got a reply. He knew it was because, according to his parents, he had been sorted into the wrong house. Terms like “dishonouring the family” and “breaking tradition” had been thrown around constantly since he’d come home, and nothing he did seemed to make up for it. His mother said “Gryffindor” in much the same way as she said “mudblood”._

_Regulus, at least, seemed happy that Sirius was home. He kept sneaking into Sirius’ room to look through his school supplies and ask him about Hogwarts. Regulus had just turned ten, and in less than two years it would be time for him to join Sirius at school. He was full of questions, but there was one that he asked over and over again:_

_“Sirius, what if I’m in Gryffindor?”_

_“I told you.” Sirius was lying on his bed, his potions homework in front of him, though he hadn’t actually started it. Regulus had crept onto the bed next to him and was talking right into Sirius’ ear. “Gryffindor is the best house.”_

_“What’s it like?”_

_“Come on, Reg. I’ve told you ten times already.”_

_“Tell me again,” Regulus whined._

_Sirius sighed and closed his potions book. He sat up properly: if he was going to tell Reg about his house, he was going to do it right._

_“Okay, picture this. The common room is way up in a big tower, so you can see the Quidditch pitch from the windows, and the people down on the ground look like tiny little ants. The dorms all have four-poster beds and all the hangings and sheets are in red and gold. Our head of house is the greatest because she can turn into a cat. And we’ve got the most house points so far. And we have the best Quidditch team. My friend James is going to try out for it next year.”_

_“I want to try out for it too!” Regulus said, bubbling with enthusiasm._

_“You’re not allowed until second year,” Sirius said. “Besides, you might not be in Gryffindor.”_

_Regulus was silent for a long time._

_“Father says I have to be in Slytherin,” he said finally. “He said it’ll be a disgrace if neither of his sons are in the family house.”_

_“Maybe you will be,” Sirius said, trying to sound like he didn’t care either way. Most likely, he thought, Regulus would be in Slytherin. He’d always toed the family line better than Sirius had._

_“We’ll still be friends if I am in Slytherin, won’t we?” Regulus asked, sounding anxious._

_“Don’t be an idiot,” Sirius said, nudging Regulus playfully until he toppled off the bed. Regulus looked up at him from the floor, eyes wide. “Of course we’ll still be friends,” Sirius added._

_Regulus’ expression cleared._

_“You promise?” he asked._

_“Yeah, Reg.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “I promise.”_

* * *

**10 th January 1980**

By the time he heard Remus' key in the door, Sirius had left his spot on the living room chair in favour of his bed. It had slowly grown dark around him, and Sirius had only left the bed in search of food or to use the bathroom.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, and noted that it was almost 11pm.

"You're late," Sirius pointed out, when Remus found him. His cheeks were flushed from the cold whether outside, and he looked tired. Sirius half wanted to get up and wrap himself in Remus' arms, to distract himself with the familiar warmth of Remus' body. The other part of him felt scared and angry and never wanted to move again.

"Yeah," Remus sighed. "Couldn't get away."

"Sure, I can see how leaving a bunch of dudes who live in the woods for no good reason to come home to your boyfriend would be a struggle."

"Okay..." Remus said, pausing his search for clean pyjamas to fix Sirius with a confused look. "They don't 'live in the woods,'" Remus argued, thinking of the group of werewolves Dumbledore had been encouraging him to spend time with in the hope of uncovering who Voldemort was interested in recruiting. "And you know I'd rather be here. Are you okay? You seem... not."

"I'm fine," Sirius said shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"Just peachy."

Maybe he'd have _wanted_ to talk about it, Sirius thought bitterly, if Remus had been home at a decent time, and hadn't left Sirius to stew on his own all day in favour of dangerous Dumbledore-sanctioned missions. Now he just wanted to lie down and wallow. Besides, it wasn't like Remus could do anything.

"Okay," Remus said again, clearly unconvinced. "Do you want to come and get some tea or -”

"I'm fine."

Remus nodded, chewing at his bottom lip, which made Sirius roll his eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that," he added, when Remus continued to look perplexed. "Can you just leave me alone?"

Remus frowned but nodded. "I'll be in the living room if you want to talk," he said.

Sirius heard the heavy sigh when he failed to respond, and listened to Remus' soft footsteps as he padded back down the hallway.

It was stupid, he knew, to take his frustration out on Remus. It wasn't going to help Regulus, wherever he was. It wasn't going to help anything at all.

Yet he didn't make any move to speak to Remus, or ease any of the uncertainty pushing heavily against his chest. He just he lay there, finally falling asleep much later, well after his clock had struck midnight. And still, the bed beside him remained cold and empty.

* * *

**_July 1974_ **

_Sirius didn’t know why he’d thought it was a good idea for James to spend a week at Grimmauld Place over the summer holidays. He only suggested it because he’d been to the Potters’ house for the past two summers, and he felt like it was his turn._

_But so far, it had been a disaster. His father had been cold towards James, his mother outright hostile. And Regulus… well, Reg had been distant all year. Ever since he’d been sorted into Slytherin, they seemed to be so far apart. The walls separating Gryffindor and Slytherin at Hogwarts still seemed to be between Sirius and Regulus even when the castle was miles and miles away._

_“Ugh, this is so boring,” Sirius said to James. “Your house is way more fun. I don’t know why I invited you.”_

_“So let’s do something fun.” A mischievous look spread over James’ face. “You and your brother have broomsticks, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Sirius said, “but we’re not allowed to fly them outside because of the muggles.”_

_“So?” James said. “Since when did rules stop you doing anything?”_

_Sirius had to admit he had a point, and he couldn't help but grin at the excited look on his friend's face._

_“Okay,” he said. “Meet me at the front door. I’ll get them.”_

_Sirius raced down the stairs, then slowed down to sneak past the drawing room, where his parents were talking. He thought he’d made it to the cupboard where the brooms were without being noticed, until he heard Regulus’ voice behind him._

_“Are we playing Quidditch?” he asked, sounding more eager than Sirius had heard him sound all year._

_“Er,” Sirius said. “Actually…”_

_“Oh.” Regulus’ face fell. “You’re playing with James. Again.”_

_Regulus turned and skulked out of the room. Sirius dropped the brooms and hurried after him._

_“Reg, wait. I’ll play Quidditch with you later, okay?”_

_“No, you won’t,” Regulus said dejectedly. “You’re lying – you’re always lying."_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“Doesn’t matter.”_

_“Yes, it does.” Sirius grabbed his arm. “What are you on about, Reg?”_

_“You **said**.” Regulus’ face puckered, his eyes welling with frustrated tears. “You promised we’d still be friends if I was in Slytherin, but we’re not. You never talk to me. You always talk to James. You don't care about me anymore.”_

_James himself had just come down the stairs, following the sound of raised voices. Regulus pointed at him accusingly, and before Sirius could respond, Reg pushed past them both and hurried up the stairs._

_James looked stunned and a little awkward. “Sorry, mate,” he said. “I never meant for you to choose me over your brother.”_

_“It’s not your fault," Sirius said, still looking past James to where Regulus had just been. "It’s my parents’ fault for pitting Reg against you. They did this.”_

_Picking up the brooms, Sirius went to open the front door._

_“Don’t you think you should talk to him?” James suggested._

_“No,” Sirius said. “There’s no point. He’s a Slytherin, and I’m a Gryffindor. That’s never going to change.”_

_And with that, he walked out of the house._

* * *

**10 th January 1980**

Sirius couldn’t get Reg out of his head. Memories were swirling around his mind like moths around a flame, and one in particular had stuck with him. To everyone else, it seemed like the summer after fifth year, the summer when Sirius left Grimmauld Place for good, was when his relationship with his family collapsed. But really, it was a done deal a long time before that. He remembered, vividly, the summer after third year, when he and Reg had argued over and over again. He remembered choosing to spend time with James instead of his brother. He remembered Regulus words, even after all these years: _“You promised we’d still be friends.”_

Had Regulus been right? Had Sirius been neglecting his little brother? At the time, Sirius had blamed his parents for driving them apart, but maybe it wasn’t entirely their fault. Maybe it was Sirius’ fault. Maybe he should have tried harder to stay friends with Reg. Maybe he shouldn’t have run away from home and left Reg alone there. Maybe he could have stopped Regulus from befriending death eaters. Maybe he could have stopped him becoming one.

Maybe he could have saved Regulus’ life.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Sirius lay on his bed, in the flat he and Remus had been so happy to move in to, and for the first time it felt wrong. He was no longer sure that this was where he was meant to be. He was no longer sure that all his choices had been the right ones. He wasn’t sure of anything.

He only wished that somehow, at some point in the last nine years, he had done more to keep his promise to Regulus.

But it was too late.

 


	13. Secret Keeper

**14 th March 1980**

James was still in shock. When Alastor Moody’s face had appeared in their fireplace bearing the news, it had felt like a physical blow. Benjy Fenwick and Caradoc Dearborn had never returned from their last mission. They’d been missing for three days. When Moody asked if he and Lily wanted to join the search party, they had of course said yes. They arrived at Emmeline Vance’s only minutes later, where the Order members were gathering.

The house was bustling with activity, almost the entire Order having shown up. Of course they had: Caradoc had been one of the first members Dumbledore had recruited, and Benjy… James’ heart tightened at the thought of his friend being in danger. They had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together, had practised at all hours of the day and night, had shared wins and losses, had got drunk at victory parties. That all seemed so far away, now. They lived in a different world.

“James?” Lily said, squeezing his hand. She didn’t ask him if he was okay, because she knew that he wasn’t. She knew him better than almost anyone.

Fabian and Gideon Prewett were standing with Marlene McKinnon and Emmeline Vance at the dining table, looking at maps that were spread out on the table top. Fabian looked especially worried, his nails bitten down to the quick and his eyes ringed in purple like he hadn’t slept in a long time. James felt a twang of sympathy: if he was this worried, how must Fabian feel?

It didn’t take long for James and Lily to find Sirius and Peter. Sirius’ expression was grim, but Peter looked distracted, like his attention was elsewhere. James didn’t know what he could possibly be thinking about at a time like this.

“Do you know when we’re going?” James asked Sirius. “We should get the search party going as soon as possible. The longer we wait…”

“I know, mate,” Sirius said. “I think Moody’s just contacting the last couple of people.”

He gestured towards the fireplace, where Moody was kneeling with his face in the flames.

“Is Remus here?” Lily asked, looking around for him.

Sirius shook his head. “He’s busy. Dumbledore’s been pushing him to get more and more involved with the other werewolves. He’s been getting useful info, changing a few minds, but…”

“But you’re scared for him,” James finished. “Me too.”

“Peter, are you alright?” Lily asked, peering at him with concern. “You’re very quiet.”

“What? Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking. About Benjy and Caradoc.”

Now that James thought about it, he’d not seen much of Peter lately. He hadn’t seen much of anyone, really, between working as an Auror and going on Order missions. His friends felt far away, most of the time. He wasn’t even sure when the last time he’d seen Benjy and Caradoc was.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Moody clearing his throat. He had stood up from the fireplace and was surveying the room, which fell quiet.

“Now that you’ll all here, we’ll be splitting into smaller parties. We don’t know the exact location they went missing, so it’ll be a broad search. I’ll be honest with you all: we don’t know if Fenwick and Dearborn are alive. We don’t know if we’ll find anything. But we’ll try our damnedest.”

James tightened his grip on Lily’s hand. Moody never had been one to downplay the severity of a situation.

The clamour of voices resumed as Moody split them into groups and James felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing behind him.

“James, Lily, I need to speak with you. Privately.”

James frowned. “Not right now. We have to help search for Benjy and Caradoc.” People were already starting to disapparate.

“I’m afraid this matter can’t wait. Everyone else would be best to go on without you.”

He gestured meaningfully towards Sirius and Peter.

"No," Sirius said instinctively.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to Sirius too,” James replied indignantly. “He’s like my brother.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “If you insist.”

“Potter?” Moody said. “Are you coming?”

The sitting room was now almost empty, and Moody was gathering the final group together.

“They’re staying with me, Alastor,” Dumbledore said.

“I’ll come,” Peter said. His jaw was set and there was a strange expression on his face. James nearly asked him to stay, too, but changed his mind. The more people out searching for Benjy, the better.

“Suit yourself,” Moody said. In moments, the last few Order members were gone, and only the four of them remained.

“What is it?” Lily asked urgently. “Has something happened?”

“It is not so much something that has happened as something that will happen,” Dumbledore said.

“Could you be a bit less cryptic?” Sirius said.

“What do you know about prophecies?” Dumbledore asked.

“Not much,” Lily replied. “Aren’t they mostly fake?”

“Mostly, yes, but some are true. I was witness to one such prophecy. I'm afraid to say it concerns your child.”

Lily’s hand automatically went to her stomach.

“What are you talking about?” James said. “How can there be a prophecy about a baby that hasn’t even been born?”

Dumbledore took a scroll of parchment from his pocket and unfurled it. He read aloud the prophecy, his voice ringing clear in the silent house.

_“‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...’”_

There was silence for a long moment as Dumbledore rolled up the scroll and replaced it in the pocket of his robes.

“Well that doesn’t mean anything. How do you know that it’s about James and Lily?”

“I cannot be certain,” Dumbledore replied, “but I believe there are only two children who fit the description.”

“‘Born as the seventh month dies,’” Lily said. “That’s when I’m due – the end of July. And what was it, something about defying Voldemort?”

“‘Born to those who have thrice defied him’” Dumbledore said.

“But we haven’t defied him three times,” James said, “have we?”

“I think we have.” Lily listed them on her fingers. “We caught Dolohov and had him arrested. We fought Death Eaters and Voldemort himself at the Ministry. And…”

“Yaxley tried to recruit me,” James finished, "could that event count?" He and Lily shared a look of fear, not for themselves but for their unborn son. Bringing a child into the world in the middle of a war was risky enough as it was, without Voldemort himself targeting the child.

“Who’s the other kid it could be?” Sirius asked.

“Alice and Frank Longbottom's child,” Dumbledore replied. “I have spoken to them this morning. They are preparing to go into hiding as we speak.”

“Hiding?” James repeated. “Is that what you expect us to do? We’re in the middle of a war! We can’t just cower in a corner when all our friends are – are going missing – and dying.”

He broke off, tears burning in his eyes.

“Does Voldemort know about the prophecy?”

“I’m unsure,” Dumbledore replied. “I was present when the prophecy was delivered, and I thought I heard someone listening at the door, but I could be mistaken. However, it is safe to assume that Voldemort will learn of the prophecy eventually. It’s too dangerous to ignore.”

“This is insane!” James burst out. “This whole thing – our baby is meant to defeat Voldemort? To have some sort of power that can beat him? That can’t be true. It just can’t. The prophecy is wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not,” Lily said softly. “If Voldemort hears the prophecy, he’ll come for us. For our child. He’ll try to kill anyone who might be a threat.”

“But…” James felt lost, like the ground had crumbled beneath him. “But what about the Order, and our jobs – our _lives_. We can’t just give everything up. We can’t leave the people we love to fight this war without us.”

Lily stepped close to James, holding both of his hands. She seemed somehow calm and steady and certain. It was suddenly as though they were the only two people in the room – in the whole world.

“We chose to keep this baby, James. We’re his parents, and that means it’s our responsibility to protect our son, no matter what. He has to be our top priority.” She paused. “Think about what your parents would have done to protect you.”

“They’d have done anything,” James said, his voice heavy.

“Exactly. I won’t put our son in danger, no matter what we have to give up to keep him safe. We’ve lost so much already, and I won’t let Voldemort take our little boy away from us.”

“Lily’s right,” Sirius said. “James, you can’t just go on with your life knowing that one day Voldemort might turn up on your doorstep. You’ve got to keep your kid safe. The rest of us will keep fighting the war.”

“Yeah,” James said. “I know that. It’s just – what about Benjy? What about all the other people who are going to get hurt, or go missing, or die? How can I sit around doing nothing while that happens?”

“You won’t be doing nothing,” Sirius said, a note of humour entering his voice. “Didn’t you hear? You’ll be busy raising the kid who’ll save the wizarding world.”

James smiled slightly.

“I think it’s best that you prepare as soon as possible,” Dumbledore said. “You’ll need to move to a safe location right away - it would be wise to think about using a fidelius charm and whom you would entrust as your secret keeper. The longer we spend talking about it, the more dangerous your situation becomes.”

“Okay," Lily said. “We need to pack. Do you know a safe place where we can hide?”

“I have somewhere in mind.”

“It’s not in someone’s basement, is it?” Lily asked. “In muggle films it’s always someone’s basement.”

“Not quite,” Dumbledore replied. “There’s a house I think you’ll like. It’s in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Alright," James muttered, his mind still cloudy with disbelief. "I suppose we should get going then."

He looked to Lily for clarification, and she nodded at him.

"I can barely believe this is happening," Sirius said, raking a hand through his hair as the three of them turned to leave. "Wait until I tell Moony," he added. "We're going to sort this whole thing out. You won't have to go away for long and I -"

"Sirius."

He was interrupted by Dumbledore's voice – tired sounding but uncharacteristically sharp – contrasting with the warm red hues and cosy ambiance of Emmeline's sitting room.

After the news they'd just received, Sirius didn't think it was possible for his heart to sink any further. But when his eyes met Dumbledore's blue ones, it did.

"In the interest of everyone's safety I think it may be best if Remus remains in the dark. At least for the time being."

"Why?" Sirius demanded. He froze in the doorway, and while James and Lily stepped through it, into the hallway, Sirius once again strode towards his old headmaster. "He would never -"

"I assure you Sirius, I'm not accusing anyone of anything," Dumbledore said softly. "But as we've discussed, the fewer people who know about the prophecy the better. Whoever James and Lily choose to be their secret keeper will be in extreme danger. You know how the fidelius charm works – James, Lily and the baby will all be far safer if fewer people know about their situation."

"Remus isn't just anyone," Sirius argued.

"Remus goes on necessary but very dangerous missions."

"Missions that you send him on!"

"I do," Dumbledore nodded. "But think for a moment, Sirius." When Sirius merely glared at him, he sighed deeply before continuing, "If he's interrogated for information. If he were to tell Voldemort's followers where James and Lily were... If you choose to tell Remus and something happens, their blood will be on your hands."

"So we're just pawns in your war?" Sirius asked. He had known Dumbledore for many years, and yet while he was at school, he had never imagined the kind of decisions his headmaster had to make in the real world. Perhaps, as Dumbledore said, it was necessary, but he didn't resent it any less.

"Quite the opposite," Dumbledore sighed, "I care about you very much."

Sirius just shook his head at him. "I'll do what you say," he said, glancing back at the door, "for them.”

He would do whatever it took to keep James, Lily and his future god-son safe.

* * *

Sirius hadn't known what to do all day. After leaving Emmeline's house he had reluctantly said goodbye to James and Lily, and had since been restlessly awaiting news on Benjy and Caradoc. He hadn't dared send a message to Remus in case it gave away his cover - but he still wasn't home, and Sirius was growing more and more agitated by his sense of uselessness at the situation that his friends had found themselves in.

When there was a knock at his front door, it was therefore with an unnecessary amount of energy that he flung it open, glad of any kind of news or distraction - even if it was just his neighbours telling him to keep the noise down again.

Thankfully, it was James that he found on the other side of the door, and not a disgruntled neighbour.

James attempted a smile, but Sirius had known him long enough to know when he didn't really mean it.

"Heard anything?" Sirius asked, stepping out of the doorway to allow his friend to pass.

"Yeah," James said.

He headed straight into the living room and sat down heavily in the armchair by the window. He picked at the frayed thread on the chair's arm, not meeting Sirius' eyes. Despite his reservations, the action reminded Sirius so strongly of Mr. Potter that it was somewhat startling.

"James?" he prompted.

"They're dead, Sirius."

"They're..." His breath caught in his throat. "Did they find-"

"I saw Fabian and Gideon," James said, looking up at Sirius. "They were - " He shook his head. "They tracked down where Benjy had been and they found - there were just _bits of him."_

"Jesus," Sirius said. Because what else was there to say? He'd played quidditch with Benjy. He and Chloe had been responsible for helping him and Remus realise their feelings for one another. And now they were both gone.

"They couldn't find any sign of Caradoc," James continued, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "But it can't be good."

Sirius couldn't help but agree.

They were silent for a moment, James continuing to pick at the chair, and Sirius feeling unsteady on his feet after what James had told him.

"You'll be okay," he said. "You and Lily and the baby."

"You can't know that," James said. It was unusual for him to admit. Sirius and James had gone through their teenage years with the feeling of immortality that adolescence is often kind enough to bestow. But things were different now. "I don't want to put any of you in danger."

"You won't."

"Sirius," James stood up, imbued with a sudden sense of purpose. "You know you're my best friend."

"I know."

"I hate to ask you, but if we're really doing this, there's no one I'd trust more to be our secret keeper."

Sirius had seen this coming. His hours since last seeing James had been filled with little besides thinking about secret keepers and death eaters and Voldemort. Of course, his first instinct had been to volunteer to be secret keeper.

"Hear me out," Sirius said, and James' face fell. "I've thought about it a lot," Sirius continued. "You know I'd do anything to help you, but I'm the obvious choice."

"What?"

"Think about it," Sirius said, repeating the words Dumbledore had done his best to instil upon him earlier. "What if they get it out of me?"

"I don't understand what you're going on about," James said, growing annoyed. "If you don't want to - "

"No, James. Everyone knows we're best friends, _everyone_. If Voldemort's looking for you he'll come to me first. And if I'm not the secret keeper then they can't get it out of me, no matter what they do. You'll be safer."

James was shaking his head again. "I don't want this," his said in frustration, "I don't want to think about people – death eaters – trying to torture information out of you!"

"I know."

Sirius wasn't usually the one who had to calm James down, and he didn't think he was very good at it. But he was confident that his idea to refrain from being the secret keeper was the safer option for his friends. 

"What about Peter?" he said. "If Dumbledore thinks it's too dangerous to tell Remus, Peter would be a good option. We can trust him, and people won't suspect him."

"I guess not," James said, his brow furrowed as he thought it over. "If you think that's the best option," he shrugged. "We'll do it."

"I do," Sirius nodded, relieved. "And hey, it's not like death eaters tend to frequent the owl post office."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had begun to regularly frequent the owl post office since Peter had started slipping him information. After the search party had found what remained of Benjy Fenwick, Peter had returned to his job as normal. He didn’t know how he felt about the whole situation: he’d never really been friends with the Quidditch team, not the way James and Sirius had been, but he had to wonder whether the information he’d been passing on had had a hand in Benjy and Caradoc’s deaths.

The thought was enough to make him feel nauseous when Lucius stepped through the door, and so Peter had been less forthcoming than usual. He was happy to see the back of Lucius’ fancy fur cloak as he stepped out of the post office – particularly when James walked in only minutes later.

Peter had to stop himself from scowling at him. He remembered what James had said earlier: “Sirius is like my brother.” What, then, was Peter? Didn’t he matter to the man he’d been friends with for almost a decade?

“Peter,” James said, sounding relieved. “I’m glad I found you. I didn’t expect you to be at work, after – after…”

He trailed off.

“After the search party,” Peter finished for him. “I guess I just wanted a bit of normality.” He paused. “What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?”

Peter asked himself whether he wanted to know because he was concerned for his friend or because it might be useful intel. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.

“It’s complicated,” James said. “I’ll explain the whole thing when we have more time. But for now, Lily and I need to go into hiding. Voldemort – he’s after us. He’s after our baby.”

Despite everything, Peter felt a surge of fear for his friend.

“What?” he said, uncomprehending. “Why?”

“There’s no time,” James replied. “I’ll explain everything when I can, I swear. But I came here to ask if you’d do something for me.”

“Anything.” The word was out of Peter’s mouth before he thought about it. Because it was true, wasn’t it? For years, Peter lived for his friends, the four of them like a solar system, all in orbit around James. Once, Peter would have died for James. He had loved him like a brother. Part of him still did. But all that had fallen apart when they left Hogwarts, and Peter had been flung out of orbit.

“Would you be my secret keeper?” James asked.

Peter stared at him. He’d heard of secret keepers, but it was very powerful magic that few people ever used. And James was asking _him_ to be his secret keeper? He trusted him that much?

Suddenly Peter was flooded with guilt. How could he have spent all these months resenting James, of all people? Of course James trusted him. How could he have doubted that?

“W-why me?” Peter stuttered. “Why not Sirius or Remus?”

“It was Sirius’ idea,” James explained. “He thought our secret would be safest with you. The Death Eaters will be less likely to come after you, when Sirius is the obvious choice. If you’re secret keeper, then them coming after Sirius will be useless.”

Peter almost laughed. So that’s why James had chosen him – not because he trusted him more than anyone else, but because no Death Eater would think of chasing after little old Peter Pettigrew. Well James was a fool, because Death Eaters had already come for him, and they valued Peter far more than James did.

Peter felt the seed of his anger towards James sprouting again but he forced a smile, something he’d become good at lately, and gave his reply:

“Of course I’ll be your secret keeper, James.”


	14. A Different Set of Chains

**3 rd April 1980**

The house was nice. It was in a small, objectively nice village and had a tall oak tree in the back garden that reminded James of his parents’ house and the times he and Sirius had climbed the tree by the back door.

It was quiet.

Well, other than Sirius, who was flitting to and fro, carrying boxes and talking too loudly. Peter was here too, walking around the perimeter of the garden, peering over the fences. He seemed on edge. James regretted having to place the weight of being their secret keeper upon his shoulders.

It was a familiar scene, his friends in his home, Lily’s hand in his, but it felt like looking at a photograph that had been dropped in the rain. The image was distorted and nothing was quite the way it should be. Sirius’ laughter was edged with the worry that James knew he had been trying hard not to show, Remus was off on another mission for Dumbledore unaware that today was the day he and Lily were moving, unaware that Godrick’s Hollow was the location of their new home.  Lily’s hand in his was sweaty, and when she smiled at him she looked down at the now large baby bump protruding from her stomach. “This is for the best,” she told him firmly. “We’ll be safe here.”

James felt as though the whole thing was a lie. Lying to Remus, lying to themselves that a chocolate box house in a quiet village would block out what was happening in the rest of the world.

He wished it didn’t feel like a lie. He wished his parents were here.

“I should go.”

Peter was suddenly by his side; James hadn’t even noticed him.

“Come on Pete, there’s still stuff to move!” Sirius argued from the doorway. He was holding the cat carrier which housed a very unimpressed Peanut, who was growling lowly at Sirius as he gestured to Peter.

“Sorry,” Peter said, “I’m not feeling well.” He hesitated for a moment, stood beside James, shielding his eyes from the early spring sun as he looked up at him, “I hope you’re happy here,” he said.

“Thanks Pete.”

“I’ll see you later.”

He left.

* * *

Lily made tea. It seemed like the thing to do.

They sat on the familiar sofa, in the unfamiliar room, with Peanut sniffing around their feet, exploring her new territory.

“Hey kitty,” Sirius said, reaching down to stroke the cat, who promptly hissed at him. She jumped up onto Lily’s lap, gazing suspiciously at Sirius from the other end of the sofa.

“That animal has never liked me,” Sirius frowned.

“You’re a dog,” James pointed out. “She can sense it.”

“She hasn’t even seen me transform!” Sirius argued, “and don’t cats have bad memories anyway?”

James just shrugged.

“Well watch this, cat!” Sirius demanded, standing up. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, and the next thing James knew, Padfoot’s head was nudging the side of his leg, his tail wagging furiously.

“Really, Sirius?” Lily sighed, though she was smiling. Peanut looked horrified.

“Woof,” said Sirius.

The cat fled, leaping from Lily’s knee and onto the coffee table, before jumping down and darting around the pile of boxes labelled ‘bathroom stuff.’

Sirius yapped happily, charging after her rather less gracefully. He collided with one of the boxes, knocking it over, before skidding on the wooden floor and losing his footing.

Peanut, who had jumped to the safety on the windowsill, looked down on him with disdain.

“Ah yes,” James said, laughing at his friend, “as graceful as ever. How you ever made the quidditch team is beyond me.”

“Bribed the Captain didn’t I,” Sirius grinned as he transformed back into himself.

“Get up you lout,” Lily said, kicking Sirius lightly with her foot, “your tea’s getting cold.”

Sirius did as he was told, squeezing back onto the sofa beside James just as Lily stood up.

“Well I think I’m going to try out the new bath,” she declared. “My back is killing me.” She glanced down at her stomach, placing a hand over the bump there. “Thanks for that, by the way,” she smiled.

“He doesn’t mean it.” James said. “Do you need any help?”

“Surprisingly James, I think I’ll manage,” she shook her head at her husband, fondly ruffling his hair, “I’ll be back soon.”

She left, leaving James and Sirius alone. It had always been easy before, but for some reason James felt at a loss of what to say. Thankfully, Sirius didn’t have the same problem.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you about something,” he said almost immediately. “I had a visit from my mother the other day.”

“What?” James said, surprised Walburga even knew where Sirius lived. “What did she want?”

“She was looking for Reg, he’s missing.”

“Missing?” James repeated, “for how long?”

“I don’t know, a few months.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it can be anything good.”

“It might not mean – maybe he just-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sirius interrupted. “Pretend.”

James was silent. Sirius and Regulus had been estranged for years, and James, who had always been close with his family, wasn’t sure how it would feel to not know his own brother.

“I’m not going to let it happen to you,” Sirius said firmly. “I know it’s quiet here, but it’s the safest place to be.”

James nodded. “Okay.”

“I haven’t told Remus.”

“That we’re in Godrick’s Hollow? I know, but you should. He should visit, and Dumbledore’s just cautious…”

“About Reg either. I don’t know why, I just get so angry about everything.”

“Remus is our friend,” James said simply. “I know you two have, you know, a different relationship than the rest of us but he’s still your friend. You can talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, “I guess you’re right.”

* * *

Remus would never quite get used to Knockturn Alley. As a teenager, it had been tempting only because it was forbidden, but as an adult it was disturbing. Though there were some normal shops, like the Beard Trimming barber shop and Mr Mulpepper’s Apothecary, the shrunken heads and human remains found in other shop windows were hard to ignore. As he walked past Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos and up the steps to the White Wyvern pub, he pulled the hood of his cloak further over his face. This was not a good place for him to be seen.

The pub was as dark and dingy as the rest of Knockturn Alley, the blinds drawn and the only light coming from a flickering lantern set on each table. As always, it was quiet, every conversation hushed. Most people had their hoods up like Remus, and he received a few suspicious looks when he walked in the door: if you were at the White Wyvern, you were a dealer in secrecy and mistrust.

In the darkest corner, nine people were gathered at a circular table, and Remus pulled up the chair to make a group of ten. This was not the first time he had met with these people, but he still knew very few of their names. Werewolves were not in the business of making their lycanthropy well known. As he settled in his seat, a woman next to him nodded to him and muttered “John” as a greeting. Remus had not been particularly subtle in his invention of a code name, but his middle name was common enough that it couldn’t be tied back to him.

The only person whose full name they all knew was their self-appointed leader, the one who had found them all – muggles and wizards alike. Remus suspected that the only reason he had been able to find them all was because he was the one who turned them, but none of the others knew that. None except Remus, who had to suppress a shudder every time he saw his attacker, who felt his heartbeat racing at the memory of the day he was turned.

Fenrir Greyback didn’t know who Remus was, didn’t recognise the boy whom he had bitten when he was only a child. But Remus knew him. He was probably the only person in the world that Remus hated more than Voldemort. And Remus was here to stop him from destroying the lives of these werewolves even more than he already had.

“We’re all here,” Greyback said, with a terrible smile that scared Remus more than any spell. His voice was low. “And we’re all here for the same reason. Wizards look down on us, always have. They think we’re soulless scum who deserve to be culled.”

Remus remembered the words his own father had said about werewolves just days before Remus was bitten: _“soulless, evil, deserving of nothing but death”_.

“It’s time for that to change,” Greyback continued. “It’s time for us to be respected. To be _feared._ ”

“Why would we want to be feared?” asked the woman sitting beside Remus, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Isn’t that the problem, why people hate us? I just want to have a normal life.”

“You can’t,” Greyback said viciously, seeming to take pleasure in the hurt on the woman’s face. “None of us will ever be normal. We need to embrace that we’re different – we’re stronger, we’re faster. And I have a way for us to show the wizarding world that they’re no better than we are.”

He paused, relishing their attention, their desperate hope that he could somehow make it possible for their lycanthropy to be a good thing. Remus knew full well that Greyback didn’t want to help any of them live better lives. He just wanted to cause more pain, get more power. Remus couldn’t let that happen.

“How?” a middle-aged man asked. “I’ve been a werewolf for as long as I’ve been a wizard, and no one has ever respected me. I couldn’t go to Hogwarts, couldn’t work anywhere near wizards, couldn’t belong in the wizarding world. I still can’t.”

“What we need is the one thing we’ve been denied all this time.” Greyback smiled again, his sharp teeth glinting in the lantern’s flickering flame. “Power. The Dark Lord is going to turn this world upside down, overthrow the Ministry, destroy those who’ve hated us for so long. He’s going to put his followers on top, and we’ll be right there with him.”

Most of the werewolves there were muggles, or they were wizards and witches who had been ostracised from the wizarding community. Where the mention of Voldemort struck fear into the hearts of wizards and witches, his name meant little to Greyback’s followers.

“But doesn’t You Know Who hate muggles and muggleborns?” Remus asked, feigning ignorance. “If he’s oppressing them, killing them, isn’t that just as bad as the way we’re treated?”

Greyback gave him an assessing look. This was not the first time Remus had stood up to him, and Greyback wasn’t a man who liked his authority to be threatened.

“Who cares what else he’s doing or why he’s doing it,” he said. “The Dark Lord can give us power like we’ve never had before.”

“But he just wants to use us,” Remus replied, some of his anger starting to show. He struggled to keep his voice low. “He just sees us as weapons.”

“We _are_ weapons.” Greyback lifted a filthy hand, his nails long and pointed and crusted with dirt and blood. “He uses us, we use him. The Dark Lord is a means to an end.”

“But-” Remus began, but Greyback cut him off.

“Do you want to things to stay the way they are?” he asked, his voice close to a snarl. “Hiding what you are, being on the Ministry’s register, chaining yourself up every full moon?”

There were a few nods in response to his words. Remus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from arguing back. He was playing a long game, and forfeiting Greyback’s trust this soon wasn’t going to help anyone.

Another member of the group, a girl who looked barely sixteen and whose face was torn apart by scars, said in a quiet voice, “Don’t you want things to change, John? Don’t you want to be free?”

“Working for You Know Who isn’t freedom,” Remus replied. “It’s just a different set of chains.”

* * *

Sirius got home late. He was used to Remus being home even later, but as he approached the flat, he was glad to see that there was the soft glow of light filtering through the curtains.

Remus was in the living room. He was wearing a green jumper that was too big for him and his hair was wet and tussled from the shower he’d obviously just taken. He was reading a book, and didn’t even seem to have heard Sirius come in.

“Hey,” he said softly, careful not to startle Remus. He did anyway, because Remus jumped slightly before spotting Sirius and smiling.

“Evening,” he said.

“You look nice.”

Remus looked down at himself like he always did when Sirius payed him that kind of compliment, as though he was trying to work out what Sirius was seeing that he couldn’t.

“I literally just found this at the bottom of the wardrobe, but thanks.”

Sirius leant down and kissed him.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t want us to be fighting,” Sirius said.

“Me neither.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Remus closed his book and put it on the coffee table, gesturing for Sirius to sit down beside him.

The two of them turned to face one another, Sirius feeling unusually vulnerable under Remus’ gaze.

“Okay so,” he began, “you know James and Lily have to move, but I didn’t tell you they were moving today, which they did. That’s where I was, helping them move – Peter too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and you should come next time, I chased the cat and how she hates me, which she did anyway.”

“Oh,” Remus said, “Okay, I’m glad you told me.”

“Also, my mother came over last week when you weren’t here. Regulus has been missing for three months and I think he’s probably dead.”

Sirius said this very quickly, not meeting Remus’ eyes. He was starting to get upset and he didn’t know why. He’d thought he’d gotten used to the fact that Regulus was gone.

“Sirius,” Remus gasped.

Remus’ hand was on the side of his face, and Sirius looked up at him, face full of concern.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Sirius stared at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

Sirius had expected him to be sorry that his brother was a stupid dead idiot, not that he’d been alone to deal with it. Somehow, it was better this way.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Remus said. He looked mad. “These last few weeks have been shit with us barely talking and never being here at the same time. I wish I didn’t have to go and deal with other werewolves all the time.” 

“The highlights of being the only werewolf on the team,” Sirius smiled.

“Yeah…” Remus sighed. He took Sirius’ hands, linking their fingers together. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll live,” Sirius shrugged.

“Are _we_ going to be okay?” he asked then, an uncertainly to his voice that made Sirius’ heart ache.

“We’ll be fine, Remus,” he promised. “We’re good.”


End file.
